


Learning to Fall for the Teacher’s Pet

by Pixxit



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2019-09-15 00:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixxit/pseuds/Pixxit
Summary: Kite goes undercover to protect the Christian son of the prosecution’s star witness.  He is, however, completely ill-prepared for the boy who works so hard to secure his attention and – ultimately – his affection.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Abuse and mishandling of Japanese suffixes, pronouns and terms of endearment. Liberal and blatant ‘sampling’ of movie quotes. Startling abundance of Americanisms. Total disregard of Japanese law, justice system, housing and neighborhood situation and educational system. Exaggeration and bastardization of fanon characterizations. Repeated, ridiculous and pointless description, misrepresentation of Christianity, organized crime and individuals with mental and developmental handicaps. Lolita-complexes of the homosexual variety, pseudo-Kpop-songfic, pimpshoes, improper use of firearms, gangland dramatics and clichéd, unbelievably happy endings.

It was ridiculous to feel this nervous, Kite knew, but it _was_ the first day of school. His loafers – as shiny as he could manage – squelched along the hallway and it was all too easy to remember his own experiences in high school. The smell of the gym and the locker rooms and the cafeteria, the sounds of students all moving and chattering in groups, the hand-drawn posters promoting student council nominees and club meetings and dances hanging crooked on the walls. All those activities in which Kite never truly participated, but stood just on the periphery of each and every one merely in the interests of understanding. An outcast of his own making – the mysterious boy that the girls stared at and whispered about – and Kite harbored no regrets. Even now, he was every bit the loner he'd been in high school, but for much more important reasons. His propensity for silence and solitude had served him well in the academy, his first case and every one that followed, and in every dangerous situation he'd ever found himself since. This was high school – this was _nothing_. Kite was ready.  
  
In the doorway, he paused, searching the classroom until his gaze landed on _him_. Seated near the window, chin propped on a pretty, pale hand, staring at the blackboard but lost in his own thoughts, he was just as Kite had anticipated and he knew that he had his work cut out for him this time. He squared his shoulders, straightened his ugly, brown tie, and entered the classroom. He didn't look at the class, didn't seek to reassure them or to create some initial bond when he crossed the floor quickly, lay his briefcase on his desk and turned immediately to scrawl his name on the blackboard. When he turned to face them again, the room had gone quiet; the boy who'd been staring off into space was now staring at him. Kite suppressed a smile, glancing around the room and allowing his gaze to settle on this student or that student just long enough to make them fidget and look away before he finally spoke.  
  
"There will be no foolish activity or silly conversation in this class."  
  
No one spoke. No one moved.  
  
"Raise your hand if you intend to be a discipline problem," he said, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
Near the back, a couple of girls whispered, muffling giggles, and a boy in the center of the room raised his hand. One brow arched in question, Kite looked at him for a moment, sweeping him with a bored, casual sort of glance. He was good-looking in the way that only teenaged boys can be. Young and clear-skinned, long, rangy body not yet out of that awkward, pubescent stage. His hair was long and blonde and shiny – Kite suspected that he would be trouble.  
  
"You have something to say?"  
  
The boy smiled and it was, at once, mischievous and enticing. "Yes, Sensei. I intend to be a discipline problem."  
  
Lips pursed, Kite nodded. "I appreciate the honesty. You'll join me this afternoon for detention."  
  
"Yes, Sensei," the boy said, relaxing in his seat and looking positively delighted with himself.  
  
"Anyone else?" he asked, glancing around the room encouragingly. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, a boy in the front row raised his hand, head tilted demurely. He had rather shapeless brown hair and a sweet smile and when Kite pointed at him, he opened his eyes to fix Kite with an intent sort of look. His eyes were startlingly blue.  
  
"Saa," he began. "Mizuki-kun is listening to an mp3 player that he stole from my brother."  
  
To the boy's right, a tall megane cleared his throat and frowned. He didn't look at the boy who'd just spoken, but his displeasure was evident.  
  
"Thank you for the information...?"  
  
"Fuji," the boy supplied helpfully. "Fuji Shuusuke."  
  
"Thank you, Fuji-kun," Kite said again, nodding his acknowledgement.  
  
Motioning to the boy beside him, Fuji smiled. "This is Tezuka Kunimitsu. He's going to be head of the Student Council this year."  
  
Staring hard at the surface of his desk, Tezuka Kunimitsu blushed, earning him another of Fuji's adoring smiles. He didn't look up and his back and shoulders were rigid with tension and embarrassment.  
  
"Is that right?" Kite asked politely.  
  
Fuji nodded. "Yes. And I'm going to manage his campaign."  
  
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" he asked, not waiting for an answer and turning toward his desk. A few of the girls giggled again, but Tezuka Kunimitsu didn't say one word.  
  
"All right, then. We've established that at least one of you is a discipline problem, one of you will be Student Council President, one of you is not paying attention and one of you is quite an efficient informer. Would anyone like to add anything before we get started?"  
  
Unsnapping his briefcase, Kite withdrew a thick, biology text and flipped through a few pages until the boy near the window spoke up.  
  
"Sensei?"  
  
"Yes?" he prompted, consulting his seating chart as though he actually had need of it. "Mizuki-kun?"  
  
All eyes turned to Mizuki, waiting, and after a moment he stood, almost defiantly. "Fuji-kun is correct. I do have an mp3 player, but I didn't steal it."  
  
"Oh?" Kite asked.  
  
"Fuji-kun's brother gave it to me yesterday afternoon."  
  
He paused, everyone was silent, and Kite did not prompt him again, certain that whatever Mizuki had to say would not fail to hold some significance.  
  
"After he confessed to me in the third-floor bathroom."  
  
"That's a lie," Fuji hissed, hands flat on his desk as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yuuta would never-"  
  
Mizuki interrupted him then, glancing smugly down at Fuji from over his shoulder. "He would and he _did_. And then he kissed me, Fuji-kun. How do you like that?"  
  
Half-rising, Fuji growled, ignoring Tezuka's sharp warning, until Kite spoke to the both of them.  
  
"That's enough," he said. "Mizuki-kun. You'll be joining Hirakoba-kun in detention this afternoon. I'll see you at 3 p.m. Sharp."  
  
Head bowed in false subservience, Mizuki took his seat again. "Of course, Sensei. I apologize."  
  
Leaning against the corner of the desk, Kite smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt – over his tie – and smiled for the first time that day. "Now that we have that out of way, if you would please open your books to page ninety-seven, Inui-kun will read for us. Chapter twelve, Inui-kun, if you'd be so kind."  
  
Silent only while he turned to the correct page and pushed his glasses up along the bridge of his nose, Inui cleared his throat and began to read.  
  
"Asexual reproduction is relatively rare among multicellular organisms, for reasons that are not completely understood. Current hypotheses suggest that, while asexual reproduction may have short term benefits when rapid population growth is important or in stable environments, sexual reproduction offers a net advantage by allowing more rapid generation of genetic diversity, allowing adaptation to changing environments..."  
  
While he read, Kite made use of the classroom's collective concentration to observe them undetected. Until, that is, he found himself meeting Hirakoba Rin's very earnest, very intent gaze. Having no idea how long the boy had been staring at him, Kite seemed unable to look away first – as unable as Hirakoba seemed unwilling. But then he smiled – slow and knowing and intimate – and Kite turned his attention quickly back to the text in his lap and Inui Sadaharu's low, soothing voice.  
  
For the remainder of class, he was careful not to look at Hirakoba and when the bell rang, Kite dismissed them as a group and turned away. He didn't remind Mizuki or Hirakoba about detention that afternoon; he had enough information on Mizuki to know that that he wouldn't skip out. Unfortunately – and for reasons completely opposite to Mizuki's – he suspected that Hirakoba wouldn't skip out, either.  
  
His phone vibrated against his hip and he frowned. There was only one person who would be contacting him this early and Kite wanted to talk to him about as much as he wanted a teacher's pet. Which was to say, not at all.  
  
He turned off his phone and sat down to await his next class.  
  
  


***

  
  


  
The day passed fairly quickly, all things considered. There had been one or two instances where Kite had been certain it would become obvious to the students that teaching wasn't his forte, but – surprisingly enough – he'd been able to both keep them in line and hold their attention. He would be smug about it later, when questioned. Now, however, he could only sit in the windowsill and feign interest in a novel while he waited for his little troublemakers to arrive.  
  
After a moment, he lay the book aside, tilting his head to crack his neck, and began to roll his sleeves up. The first thing he was going to do when he got home was strip off the lame ass outfit he had on and take a hot shower. After that, he intended to sit back and relax while his little chickadee made his dinner and – if he was lucky – gave him a blowjob. He sighed, smiling to himself and stretching to work the kinks out of his back.  
  
"You look comfortable," Hirakoba said from the doorway. His tie was loose and the top button of his shirt was undone. His hair was tousled and his color was high; Kite could admit that the kid looked every bit as good as he wanted to.  
  
"Then I'm a better actor than I thought," Kite told him, loosening his own tie and motioning Hirakoba inside. "Where's Mizuki-kun?"  
  
Shrugging, Hirakoba dumped his bag on the floor and took the seat closest to Kite. "Beats me. He's usually getting his ass kicked right about this time. He's kind of a moving target."  
  
Rising, Kite frowned. "And you don't help him?"  
  
"Hey, man – er, Sensei – he's not _my_ problem."  
  
He wasn't. Unfortunately for Kite, however, the problem was all _his_.  
  
"That's beside the point," Kite said. "Don't you stick up for your friends?"  
  
Hirakoba laughed. "Who said he was my friend?"  
  
Irritated, Kite prepared to go and find the kid himself when Mizuki appeared in the doorway. His uniform was crisp and unblemished and his demeanor was pleasant enough. Kite assumed that he'd had no altercations to deal with today.  
  
"Mizuki-kun."  
  
Mizuki bowed quickly, the gold crucifix he wore dangling to catch the light for a moment before he straightened again. "I apologize for my lateness, Kite-san. I was in the bathroom."  
  
"Another confession?" Hirakoba teased, waggling his eyebrows, and Mizuki frowned.  
  
"No," he said, apparently unwilling to elaborate.  
  
"Don't let it happen again," Kite interrupted, as though he anticipated Mizuki would be serving detention regularly. Mizuki merely nodded and took a seat one over from Hirakoba. He bent to rummage through his bag, withdrawing a book and laying it on his desk. He didn't look at Kite or Hirakoba.  
  
"What are you doing?" Kite asked, and Mizuki looked up, blinking in confusion. The kid was a looker – Kite didn't have to wonder why the other boys made a target of him.  
  
"I'm going to read, Sensei. This is detention."  
  
Frowning, Kite thought about all the movies he'd seen whereupon kids serving detention had been expected to do a lot more than sit there so innocuously and _read_. But then he remembered that most of what he'd seen of detention scenes had taken place in dirty porno flicks. He began to feel a little uncomfortable.  
  
"Yeah, well...why don't you boys clean up this classroom, instead? Make yourselves useful."  
  
If that went well, Kite thought he might suggest that they clean his car. He wasn't sure how far he'd be able to take this detention thing, but he'd sure as hell milk it for all it was worth.  
  
Hirakoba stood, shrugging and adjusting his pants, which were a size too big. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Sensei."  
  
Mizuki, as Kite had suspected that he might, rose to join his classmate and Kite watched as Hirakoba began to tidy books and magazines while Mizuki began straightening desks and picking up trash on the floor. At one point, he paused, retrieving something near the window and stood quietly looking at it. Head cocked, attention completely focused, he turned the item around and around between his fingers. Seated at his desk, happy for the opportunity for observation that such a scenario afforded, him, Kite remained silent and feigned interest in his book.  
  
After a moment, Hirakoba glanced over. "Hey, what do you got?" he asked. Kite smiled a little, watching the tan, pretty boy make his way over to Mizuki. Most kids would have complained that Mizuki wasn't doing his fair share, but Hirakoba seemed unbothered.  
  
Mizuki turned, blushing a little to have been caught slacking. "Oh. Um, nothing much. I think it's an eraser." He held it up, a round green and purple eraser with a yin yang symbol in the center. Hirakoba's eyes lit up as he leaned in to get a better look and while it was unlikely that he was aware of precisely how his proximity affected Mizuki, Kite saw it all. The smaller boy blushed faintly, seeming skittish, too-aware when feathery tips of Hirakoba's hair brushed his arm.  
  
"Cool," Hirakoba said, touching it gingerly. "Who'd use an eraser like this anyway? It's too cool-looking to mess up."  
  
"D-do you want it?" Mizuki asked hesitantly, conveniently forgetting that it wasn't his to give. But Kite didn't say a word. The little brat who lost it clearly didn't deserve to have it in the first place, if he couldn't take care of his belongings.  
  
"Really?" Hirakoba asked, eyes wide. Mizuki swallowed, forcing a smile as he offered to his classmate.  
  
"Sure. If it meant anything at all to whomever lost it, he'd have taken better care of it, don't you think?"  
  
Kite hid his amusement behind his book and snuck a glance at his watch. Hirakoba laughed and swiped the eraser from Mizuki, slipping it into his pocket when he flashed the other boy a grin. "That's right."  
  
Turning toward Kite's desk, Hirakoba gestured toward the blackboard. "S'pose we should clean the erasers too, ne Mizuki-kun? We can take them outside."  
  
"Sure," Mizuki said. "But there's no need. There's a machine in the supply closet that will do it for us."  
  
"Oh, cool," Hirakoba said, bumping Kite's chair when he leaned forward to grab a couple of the erasers. Mizuki grabbed the other two and followed Hirakoba toward the door.  
  
"Hey," Kite said, looking up as though he hadn't been paying attention. "Where are you two going?"  
  
"We're going to clean your erasers, Sensei," Mizuki told him calmly. "Don't worry, we'll be right back."  
  
Kite frowned and Hirakoba leaned in the doorway, hip cocked in a pose Kite could only assume the boy thought was sexy. "Don't miss me too much, Kite-san."  
  
Frown deepening, Kite slid down in his chair a bit and lifted his book again. "I'm counting the moments."  
  
Hirakoba's laugh echoed in the hallway and when the squeak of the boys' trainers on linoleum faded from earshot, Kite took out his phone to check his messages. One was from Atobe, two were from Kenya and one was from his mother. He called his mother first, since she was the lesser of the three evils, and cursed when the machine picked up. She'd changed the greeting, but Kite could still hear his bird chirping in the background. He sighed a little – he missed his pretty Fiona – and wished that Kenya didn't hate birds so much. At this rate, Fiona would die of old age and Kite would forever regret not having her with him.  
  
Rising, he put his phone away and snuck a peek out into the hallway before kneeling before Mizuki's bag and opening the zip quietly. Though he doubted the kid had anything to hide, it was always better to know as much as possible about a target in order to do the job right. Inside the bag was a white cell-phone with tiny musical note charms in varying shades of purple. Kite hummed thoughtfully and put it back in the pocket – Mizuki had good taste – before rifling through the remainder of the bag's contents. A men's fashion magazine, a pair of white gloves (creepy), a purple yo-yo, translucent lip gloss, several purple gel pens, a Chobits notepad, a white mp3 player with white earbuds, a package of erasers identical to the one Mizuki had given to Hirakoba only moments before and a lightweight, stiletto switchblade. Shocked, Kite drew the blade out of the bag and held it up to the light. This wasn't a child's toy and it wasn't something that Mizuki would have obtained easily. It made Kite wonder if the boy were as oblivious to his father's business dealings as Kite had been led to believe that he was. Silver and white, it gleamed under the artificial lighting and the serrated blade sprang from the sheath with barely a whisper when Kite pressed the button. If the knife had ever had a safety clasp, it had been altered.  
  
In the hallway, Kite could hear Hirakoba's voice and he quickly zipped Mizuki's bag and moved to stand near the window.  
  
"Kite-san?" Someone spoke from the doorway and Kite turned to see the school nurse smiling in his general direction.  
  
"Zaizen-san. You're here late," he managed, proud of his good manners and inordinate patience.  
  
"Yeah, I always stick around on Tuesdays. The baseball club is accident prone." Stepping aside when Hirakoba and Mizuki squeezed through the empty space in the doorway, Zaizen nodded toward the boys. "Extra-curricular activities?"  
  
"Detention," Kite said. "But we're just about ready to go, I think."  
  
"Detention?" Zaizen asked, clearly surprised. "These two?"  
  
Kite shrugged. "They were disruptive in class today. You know how it goes."  
  
Zaizen laughed. "Slavedriver," he said. And at Kite's scowl, shoved both hands into the pockets of his loose, white pants and took a step back. "Hey, say hello to Kenya-senpai for me."  
  
"Yeah, sure," Kite said, willing Zaizen away. Little smart-ass never missed an opportunity to remind Kite that he'd known Kenya first. They'd played tennis together in middle school or something equally lame and pathetic. Zaizen was the picture of politeness when Kite was around. Kite really wanted to kick his ass.  
  
"See you around, boys," he said, waving at Mizuki, who smiled and waved back.  
  
"So?" Hirakoba said, lining the erasers up along the ledge beneath the blackboard. "Did you miss me, Sensei?"  
  
Kite tucked his novel and his planner back into his briefcase and nudged his glasses up. "More than words can say, Hirakoba-kun. Every second spanned an eternity."  
  
Beaming, Hirakoba bent to sweep up his bag while Mizuki looked on silently. "Yeah? Cool."  
  
Kite frowned. Little pain in the ass. "Mizuki-kun," he said. "Kill the lights."  
  
Retrieving his own bag, Mizuki risked one last glance at Hirakoba and then Kite and nodded obediently. "Yes, Sensei."

***

  
In the parking lot, Kite stood before his car, briefcase loose in his grip, the faint throb of a magnificent headache just at the base of his skull. All four of his tires had been slashed, as had the convertible top. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he vowed that when this assignment was done, he would make Atobe Keigo kiss his ass for a good hour. And that was just for starters.  
  
His phone suddenly felt as though it weighed ten pounds, like stone in his pocket. Of the various, safe people he could call, the prospect of needing rescuing from any of them made him want to go and lie down in the middle of the road. Facing oncoming traffic. It was only his first day on the job and already he doubted things could get much worse.  
  
Behind him, he heard the rumble of what sounded like a motorcycle engine and he glanced over his shoulder. Heading his way was Hirakoba Rin. On a shiny, candy blue scooter. Kite pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself to never, ever, doubt that things could get worse.  
  
Easing to a stop, Hirakoba flashed Kite a bright smile. His hair, sticking out of his blue helmet, was windblown and fluffy. Kite wished he weren't so damned cute. Then he wished he wouldn't have those sorts of thoughts.  
  
"Having some trouble, Sensei?"  
  
"A little bit, Hirakoba-kun, yes," he said, voice raised over the sound of the scooter's engine.  
  
The smile that Hirakoba offered him then was one of quite another caliber. The weight that it carried was not lost on Kite.  
  
"You need a lift, then?" he asked, eyes dark and intent. "I'll take you home."  
  
Glancing from the car to the scooter, Kite sighed.  
  
"Trust me," Hirakoba said. "I'm a good driver."  
  
Clutching his briefcase, Kite pocketed his keys and met Hirakoba's hopeful, expectant gaze. "I'm sure you are," he murmured, accepting that it was impossible to maintain one's dignity while clambering up on the back of a teenager's scooter.  
  
Hirakoba laughed, revving up his engine once or twice as he began to pull away from the curb. "Hang on tight, Sensei," he called back. "I won't bite you."  
  
Kite didn't answer, simply holding on tight and hoping that traffic wouldn't be bad. His ass was vibrating and he didn't much care for it.  
  
"Unless you ask me to," Hirakoba added loudly, arching his back to nudge between Kite's thighs with his tight, round, young butt.  
  
Kite closed his eyes. And hung on as tightly as his dignity would allow.

 

***

  
"See you later, Sensei!" Hirakoba yelled out as he sped away from the curb. Kite grimaced, his ass was still buzzing and the sidewalk leading to his house was getting longer and longer with every step he took. To add insult to injury, he was still feeling a little restless in the groin region. Damned kid.  
  
Pausing to get the mail, he took out his phone and dialed Atobe's office. Somebody was going to fix his tires before the sun rose or Kite was going to have somebody's ass.  
  
"'lo," answered someone who was decidedly not Atobe.  
  
"Who's this?" Kite asked, walking slowly. Kenya had yet to peer out of the window and Kite wasn't certain as to whether or not this was a good sign.  
  
"It's Atobe," he said, sounding outraged.  
  
"Bullshit. Who is this?"  
  
"Okay, okay," the man relented. "It's your mom."  
  
Kite's head began to pound. "Ryoga."  
  
"Aw, man. What gave it away?"  
  
"Listen, I don't have time for this. Somebody slashed my tires at the school and I need you to get out there and tow my car. I can't afford to leave it there long enough for you to change the tires. Anyone could be watching."  
  
"Hey," Ryoga began, insulted. "Nobody would see me. I'm like the wind, dude."  
  
"Just pick up the car, okay? I won't have a ride to school in the morning."  
  
"What should I tell Atobe?" Ryoga asked, sounding distracted. Kite could hear video game music in the background.  
  
"Tell him..." Kite hesitated, suppressing a yawn and massaging his temples. "Tell him he's an asshole."  
  
"Well, okay, but I've already told him that at least twice today."  
  
"Yeah, well. Third time's the charm," Kite told him, disconnecting and snapping his phone shut.  
  
By the time he dragged it up the front steps, Kite suspected he was going to need an early night, which was unfortunate since any time Kite expressed an interest in turning in early, Kenya expressed an interest in getting fucked for three or four hours.  
  
The key stuck in the lock for a moment, but Kite rattled it loose soon enough. He pushed the door open and was immediately assailed by the scent of barbecue. As if on cue, his stomach growled.  
  
"Kenya?" he called out.  
  
"In the kitchen," came the neutral response. No sign of anger – so far, so good.  
  
Dropping his briefcase in the hallway, Kite bent to remove his shoes and line them against the wall. The floor felt good on his bare feet and he eased out of his jacket on the way into the kitchen.  
  
"What a day," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and rotating his shoulders. "I think I liked it better when I was handing out parking tickets."  
  
Kenya turned then – familiar frown firmly in place – one hand fisted at her hip while she stirred a pot with the other. "Who was the blonde on the bike?"  
  
"What?" Kite demanded, shooting for incredulous and derisive. "Are you serious?"  
  
"Don't I look serious?" she asked. Truthfully, she looked grouchy and tired, but Kite wasn't about to tell her that.  
  
"You look pretty," he said, offering her a tired smile.  
  
She hesitated – Kite could see her wavering – but then she scowled at him again. "I turn my back for five minutes and you're riding around with some blonde slut. When will I ever learn?"  
  
"Learn what?" Kite asked, rapidly becoming irritated. He didn't want to fight with her, they'd just made up after the once-and-for-all breakup of last weekend and Kite didn't have the time or the inclination to go through that whole song and dance again. "When have I _ever_ been unfaithful to you?"  
  
Laying the spoon aside, Kenya turned to face him. Her shirt was unbuttoned and her skin was damp from standing over the stove. Libido stirring just the tiniest bit, Kite was careful to keep his eyes on her face. It wasn't a difficult task, Kenya had a beautiful face, it was just that her tits were so much more a distraction.  
  
"Atobe."  
  
"What? You're crazy, woman. Atobe Keigo's gayer than Christmas."  
  
"Dan Taichi," she continued.  
  
"Never even considered it."  
  
"Echizen Ryoga."  
  
"Not gay," he scoffed.  
  
"Atobe's accountant – what's her name? The dark-haired one," Kenya said.  
  
"Oishi-san? She's married. And you are seriously out of your mind."  
  
"Fine!" Kenya snapped, turning off the stove and leaving the pot on the still-hot burner, knowing that Kite would have to scrape the dried sauce out of the bottom if he didn't clean it right away. "Fix your own goddamned dinner."  
  
Jerking the knot at the small of her back, she tugged off her apron and threw it at Kite. "I don't know why I put up with you," she yelled, storming down the hallway toward the back of the house. "Cheating bastard!"  
  
"Zaizen sends his love!" he yelled back just that split second before she slammed the bedroom door. "Crazy bitch," he muttered to himself.  
  
Loosening up his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, Kite resigned himself to passing the night on the sofa and told himself that the research he needed to do could wait until later. He just needed a little nap – just a couple of hours of well-deserved sleep.  
  
Kenya's cat loped into the kitchen, then – fat, hairy monster that he was – and Kite watched him pick his way across the floor, toward his litter box. In the few seconds it took him to make the trip, Kite dreamed up seven brand new, ingenious ways for him to die. Four or five inches away from the box, he looked directly at Kite and pissed on the floor.  
  
Kite made a mental note to acquire a few houseplants that were toxic to animals.

 

***

  
The phone was ringing. Had been ringing for several moments, in fact, by the time Atobe realized that it was not a part of his dream. The warm, sleeping body beside him suggested that he was the only one awake, but Atobe was not fooled.  
  
"Wakashi," he mumbled, nudging his lover even as he attempted to tug the blankets over his head again. "I know you're not asleep."  
  
Tugging hard on the blankets and rolling over to present Atobe with his naked backside, Hiyoshi inched away so as to avoid another elbow in the ribs. "That's because you're not asleep, either. And I'm not getting up."  
  
"This is ridiculous. Who is calling Ore-sama so early in the morning?"  
  
"I don't know," Hiyoshi said into the pillow. "Why don't you get up and find out?"  
  
Flinging an arm over his head, Atobe sighed heavily – quite put out – and began to kick the blankets away from his legs spitefully. Hiyoshi swore at him and pulled them right back up again. "It's for you, anyway. Stop making me suffer; I'm sleepy and cold."  
  
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and wincing when his bare toes touched the floor, Atobe yawned and stretched. He rose, suppressing a shudder and scratching his left armpit as he padded toward the telephone stand. But then the ringing stopped and his answering machine beeped.  
  
"Atobe, you sonofabitch. Answer this phone before I crawl through it and wrap both hands around your..."  
  
Snatching up the phone, risking a glance at the bed where the Hiyoshi lump lingered, Atobe hissed into the phone. "This had better be good, Kite. Or you and I will be discussing disciplinary action later today."  
  
"Is that right?" Kite returned – Atobe could hear the sneer in his voice. "You'll have to email it to me, in that case, since I don't have any _fucking way to get over there before the station closes_."  
  
Atobe sniffed, raking a hand through his hair and peering over his shoulder at the (rather magnificent) reflection of his ass in the hall mirror. "Oh, right. You're still babysitting."  
  
"Babysitting?" Kite repeated, incredulous. "I'm talking about my _car_!"  
  
"Car? What's wrong with your car?"  
  
Kite was silent for a moment – Atobe could hear him struggling to get his breathing even and under control. "Are you telling me that Echizen didn't call you last night?"  
  
Glancing at the machine, and at the number of messages flashing on the display, Atobe tried to recall where he'd left his mobile after he and Hiyoshi and stumbled to bed the night before. "Hm. No, he certainly did not. But you know how absent-minded he can be, sometimes. Honestly, I don't know why I don't fire him."  
  
"Because he knows all your dirty little secrets, that's why," Kite said. "And don't give me the run-around; he probably called you and you were too busy playing slap and tickle to answer the phone."  
  
"I beg your pardon," Atobe snapped, raising his voice now. "I would never neglect the department in favor of sex. How dare you?"  
  
From the bed, Hiyoshi snorted and squirmed beneath the blankets. Atobe frowned and wondered at the lack of respect in his life these days.  
  
"I'll call Ryoga and get things ironed out. Are you in an immediate crunch?"  
  
Having had the wind sucked out of his very belligerent sales, Kite sighed heavily. "No, no. I'll try to convince Kenya to give me a ride. Somebody slashed my tires yesterday at the school, though, and I'm feeling a little edgy. Something's going to happen soon, Atobe. I got in here just in time, I'm telling you."  
  
"Hm. Well, that remains to be seen. Just keep an eye on the brat and don't let anybody murder him until we get that whole Kuwahara situation sorted out. The whole clan is going down this time."  
  
"Fine, fine," Kite said. "I've got it covered. Just get my car fixed, all right?"  
  
"Of course," Atobe reassured him smoothly. "A word of advice, though, if I may, Kite?"  
  
Taking Kite's silence as acceptance, Atobe continued, lowering his voice so that Hiyoshi would not overhear. "You shouldn't have to beg your woman for a little consideration in situations like this. If you ask me, you've allowed yourself to become pussy-whipped and quite frankly, I'm embarrassed for you."  
  
When Kite did not respond, Atobe continued, pleased by his subordinate's rapt attention. "Reverse the situation. Don't be pussy-whipped. _Whip that pussy_."  
  
Kite hung up then and Atobe frowned when his ear was met with nothing more than a dial tone. "Tsk. Some people simply cannot recognize good advice."  
  
" _Keigo_ ," Hiyoshi whined. "I'm cold and lonely in here."  
  
Shrugging, Atobe replaced the receiver and hurried across the cold floor. He was late already and, as such, saw no reason to forego his one, true, early-morning pleasure. He'd touch base with Ryoga in an hour or so. After all, Kite had waited this long and, besides, he and his little lady could use the togetherness that a morning commute could provide. Oshitari-san did not appear to be the accommodating, sweet-talking little sex puppet that her cousin was.  
  
  
"Coming, precious."

***

  


  
Kite took the bus to school. When he arrived – suit wrinkled and hair limp – he couldn't help glancing toward the parking lot where his car still sat. The tires were still flat and, now, someone had keyed 'pedophile' along the driver's side door. Unamused, Kite considered taking out his phone and calling Atobe to swear at him some more, but his attention was effectively diverted by the group of boys loitering just at the side of the school. Safely inside the chain-link fence, they seemed not to notice him and Kite turned away from his car in favor of something potentially much more important. He consoled himself with the promise that – if Echizen had not made an appearance by lunchtime – he would harass Atobe again.  
  
As he drew nearer, he recognized several of the students from the day before. Seated on an overturned oil drum was Fuji Shuusuke. His shirt was open at the neck and his tie and jacket were nowhere to be seen. With his hair tucked behind one ear, Kite noticed the many silver hoop earrings laddered up his ear and into the cartilage. He cringed and rubbed his own ear even as he wondered how he'd missed noticing them yesterday. The boy had been pressed and immaculate when Kite had seen him and his hair had hung over both ears. Kite doubted that it was a coincidence.  
  
His friend Tezuka, the quiet one, stood nearby but looked at no one. In his hands were Fuji's blazer and tie and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than where he was. With what was going on around him, Kite couldn't really blame him.  
  
Menacing, graceful, Fuji hopped down and began advancing, speaking in a low voice to Mizuki. That he wasn't whispering sweet nothings was a certainty, if Mizuki's body language was anything to go by. Tense, guarded, Mizuki stared back at Fuji, though he'd allowed the other boy to back him against the wall. He said nothing, and he didn't move a muscle.  
  
Several boys looked on: first year punks who wore safety pins in their blazers and studded boots keeping a safe distance but pretending to be part of the group, a boy with dark, red hair swept to cover one eye, a dark haired one who stood at his side – apparently speaking to him though he never turned to look at him, a short boy with a ballcap and a bandage on his temple. The boy in the hat was lean and scrappy and appeared to be ready to spring into action at any given moment. Near the door, a beautiful dark-haired boy lingered, unnoticed by the others. Hair so black that it shone blue in the sunlight, pretty, heavily-fringed eyes, one pale, delicate hand covering his mouth so as to contain his laughter – Kite knew him without needing an introduction. That he was alone shocked Kite and he realized that, if he'd been even one-tenth the bastard that Atobe was, he'd seize the opportunity that Yukimura Seiichi's lack of protection would afford and use him to bargain just the way everyone else on the case had seemed to think he should.  
  
But he wouldn't. He would show Atobe that it was unnecessary. As he'd declared so passionately in the past, involving the boy was something only a criminal would do. And Kite Eishirou was a man of the law.  
  
Beyond Seiichi-kun, the three who really took Kite's attention were the ones who stood closest to Mizuki and Fuji. One lounged behind Fuji, leaning against the wall with both arms folded over his chest. He was tall and rangy with tousled, shoulder length hair and appeared completely unmoved by Fuji's single-minded intimidation of Mizuki. He had a cigarette tucked behind one ear and smiled when Fuji leaned in too close, causing Mizuki to flinch. Another boy – almost as tall as the other one – stood behind Mizuki wringing his hands and looking anxious. The expression on his face, however, gave no indication that he was afraid. He was antsy, but he was ready to fight – Kite would have bet money on it. He had big brown eyes and grayish hair and the cross he wore around his neck was similar to Mizuki's.  
  
The third boy stood next to Fuji, occasionally imploring 'Aniki' but doing nothing to stop Fuji. This, Kite deduced, must be Fuji's brother, Yuuta-kun. He was taller than his older brother, and bigger besides, but he – like the others – did nothing to help Mizuki.  
  
"This ends today, Mizuki-kun," Fuji said, nudging Mizuki's shoulder in clear provocation. "You'll leave my brother alone. Or _else_."  
  
"'Or else' what?" the tall, gray-haired boy asked, sneering. "What will you do to him, Fuji-kun?"  
  
"Shut up, Ohtori," the boy with the ballcap said. "Or I'll show you."  
  
"Aniki, please," Yuuta began, only to fall silent again when Fuji shot him a look.  
  
"This is your doing, Yuuta," Fuji told him calmly. "Just walk away – leave him alone – and it ends here, today."  
  
"And if I don't?" Yuuta challenged.  
  
"Then I'll give him to Chitose."  
  
The tall, lounging boy yawned, stretched and casually lit a cigarette. Kite couldn't imagine what sort of threat he posed, but Yuuta seemed genuinely upset by the prospect.

"I know what you were doing with him yesterday afternoon, Yuuta. In the bathroom," Fuji continued. Yuuta blushed and looked away. "Deny it."  
  
Shaking his head once, Yuuta would not look up again.  
  
"That's what I thought," Fuji said, turning away from Yuuta to grab a handful of Mizuki's blazer and haul him close. "This is the last time I'm going to warn you, Mizuki-kun. I'm losing my good humor. Do you understand me?"  
  
Expecting Mizuki's friend to intervene, Kite watched, surprised when Mizuki closed his eyes and began murmuring to himself in a low voice. He couldn't hear what the boy was saying, but he didn't want to risk getting too close and possibly interrupting. This was too good to pass up; he'd learn more witnessing this than he would if he grilled Mizuki for hours.  
  
Chitose smiled wanly. "Is he praying again?"  
  
"How sweet," ballcap boy said and spat on the ground. "Shut him up, Fuji."  
  
The bell rang then, startling a few of the younger boys, though no one seemed willing to leave first.  
  
Fuji shrugged, releasing him and shoving him back against the wall. "What do I care if he prays?"  
  
He began to walk away, but paused to glance over his shoulder. "There's no one to save him."  
  
The side door banged open then and a big, scowling boy stepped out onto sidewalk.  
  
"Fuji."  
  
Though the black cap he wore lent his crisp uniform and silver hall monitor pin a somewhat incongruous effect, the expression on his face told anyone who bothered to look that he would not be intimidated.  
  
"Sanada," Fuji murmured softly, head tilted in an effort to appear harmless and beguiling. Kite recognized his mannerisms as the ones Fuji had used yesterday to appear as pleasant and helpful as possible. "Don't you have any troublemakers to round up?"  
  
"Yes, I do," Sanada said, straightening his cap. "So move your asses inside or I'm reporting every one of you."  
  
Sighing heavily, Fuji strolled over to Tezuka and held out his hand. "Very well," he said, taking his blazer from Tezuka and slipping quickly into it. When Tezuka held out his tie, however, Fuji turned his hand up and bent to press a kiss to the center of his palm. One of the boys gasped and a few of the others began to whisper excitedly to one another, but Fuji paid them no mind. He took his time, smiling at the blush on Tezuka's cheeks as he did up his buttons and knotted his tie.  
  
"Mizuki," Sanada barked, arms crossed. "You and Ohtori walk Yukimura to class. I'll write excuses for you."  
  
He turned, straightening Yukimura's tie and almost smiling when Yukimura tried to return the favor. Touching Yukimura's shoulder briefly, he waited until Mizuki and Ohtori bundled Yukimura off to class before turning to face Fuji. Eyes narrowed, he moved close, menacing and scowling.  
  
"You little punk," he began.  
  
"Now, now, Sanada," Fuji cajoled. "You remember what the Principal said about you manhandling the other students."  
  
"He didn't mean you," Sanada said, cracking his knuckles. "I promise."  
  
Pushing away from the wall, Chitose dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his shoe. "I'm bored. See you later, Shuusuke."  
  
"You!" Sanada yelled. "You're not even a student here!"  
  
Slinking off, Chitose eased through the small gap in the chainlink fence. Kite could hear him sniggering as he went.  
  
"I'll see you expelled, Fuji Shuusuke," Sanada warned. "The next time I catch you picking fights."  
  
"But you're starting one right now!" the nervous looking redhead spoke up and he swallowed hard, taking a step back when Sanada turned in his direction.  
  
"What's your name?" Sanada asked.  
  
"K-Kamio Akira," the boy said, trying to look brave and failing.  
  
"Kamio Akira," Sanada repeated calmly just that split second before he backhanded Kamio hard across the cheek. The boy crumpled with a sharp cry, his dark-haired friend, catching him and holding him close. He glared at Sanada, but said nothing.  
  
Sanada pointed at Fuji. "Watch yourself."  
  
And then he was gone and the group began to disband. Soon, the only ones left were Fuji, Tezuka and Yuuta and when Fuji took Tezuka's hand and led him into the school, Yuuta tipped his head back to gaze up at the sky.  
  
Kite watched him until the third bell rang and could linger no more. He was late for class, too.

***

  


  
The day was rather uneventful, all things considered. At lunchtime, Kite had peered outside to ascertain whether or not his car had been taken care of and had been rather surprised to see Echizen outside – working on it in broad daylight. With a hot pink bandanna tied around his hair and the mesh tanktop he wore, Kite didn't feel that he was being particularly circumspect. In fact, he looked like a homeless man.  
  
Shaking his head, Kite turned away from the window and nearly raked a hand through his hair in frustration until he remembered how much gel he'd used that morning. He settled for a heartfelt sigh.  
  
"Kite-san," Zaizen said from the doorway. "Eating all alone today?"  
  
"I'm not hungry," Kite said, lowering himself into the chair behind his desk and thoroughly prepared to ignore Zaizen for as long as he wanted to stand there yammering about nothing.  
  
"How's Kenya-senpai?" he asked, voice far too light to have been truly casual.  
  
Frustrated, Kite wanted to say. Unreasonable and bitchy and unpleasant and she rides my ass every fucking chance she gets. And I haven't had a blowjob in two months.  
  
"Fine," he said, wearily. "She says hello."  
  
"Really?" Zaizen asked, eyes sparkling. When he spoke of Kenya was the only time he looked anything but pissed off, in Kite's opinion.  
  
"No," Kite returned. "Now leave me alone, for fuck's sake."  
  
Choosing that particular moment to appear, Hirakoba beamed a smile at Kite from the doorway. "You sound grouchy, Sensei."  
  
Kite didn't dignify his remark with a response and Hirakoba held up two small boxes. "I brought lunch for us."  
  
Zaizen's arched brow said all that he didn't actually give voice to and Kite steadfastly ignored him. "Thank you, Hirakoba-kun, but I'm not hungry."  
  
Crestfallen, the boy moved over to Kite's desk to set the boxes down. "But my mom made these," he said. "It's really good, I promise!"  
  
From the doorway, Zaizen snorted his amusement. "Oh, and Kite-san?"  
  
"What?" Kite growled, sitting back while Hirakoba unpacked his bento to set everything out for Kite's observance.  
  
"There's a dirty looking guy messing around with your car outside. Just thought you'd like to know."  
  
"Thank you," Kite managed, determined not to give Zaizen the satisfaction of seeing him lose his cool. "He's my mechanic."  
  
"Ah," Zaizen said, hands linked behind his back. "Enjoy your lunch, then. What a good little student you have there."  
  
Glancing up, Hirakoba smiled. "Not really, but I can pretend for now."  
  
Chuckling to himself, Zaizen walked away and Kite wondered if he'd only pretended to leave and was, in fact, lurking outside the door to eavesdrop. Maybe _he'd_ been the one to key up Kite's car.  
  
"Sensei?"  
  
"Hm? Oh, thank you, Hirakoba-kun."  
  
"You're not hungry, really?" Hirakoba asked. "I can go if you want."  
  
Kite watched him silently for a moment – he knew very well that the boy was playing him with his sad eyes and meek demeanor. Kite was not fooled. "Tell me, Hirakoba, don't you have a girlfriend you'd rather have lunch with?"  
  
The boy's eyes were hard when he looked up at Kite. "No."  
  
"Friends, then?" Kite tried again.  
  
"I'd rather be with you," Hirakoba told him. "I won't bother you."  
  
"Can I ask you a question, then?"  
  
"Sure," Hirakoba said around a mouthful of fish. "Anything you want."  
  
"What do you think of Mizuki-kun? Have you ever met his family?"  
  
Chewing slowly, Hirakoba's gaze darkened and he swallowed and wiped his mouth with the red napkin he'd lay beside his bento. "You want to talk about Mizuki?"  
  
He sounded angry, Kite knew he'd have to tread carefully. "Well, I was really only interested in your opinion of him. I witnessed him being bullied this morning and wondered if it were such an everyday occurrence that no one felt compelled to stick up for him."  
  
"Mm," Hirakoba said, seeming mollified and speaking around another bite of fish. "Fuji, then. Am I right?"  
  
Kite nodded, and Hirakoba continued. "Mizuki keeps screwing around with Fuji's brother. It pisses him off like you wouldn't even believe."  
  
"Is that so?" Kite asked, puzzled. "But...it seems to me that Fuji-kun is involved with Tezuka-kun. Isn't it a bit hypocritical for frowning on behavior that he likely engages in, himself?"  
  
"Oh, no," Hirakoba interjected. "You've got it all wrong. He's not mad that Yuuta's messing around with a guy. He's _jealous_."  
  
"Jealous?" Kite asked.  
  
"Jealous," Hirakoba said again. "He doesn't want anyone getting too close to his darling brother. Nobody but _himself_ , anyway."  
  
Kite fell silent. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wondered at Hirakoba's apparent acceptance of Mizuki's homosexuality. At many of the boys' acceptance of homosexuality in general, in fact. Fuji and Tezuka. Mizuki and Yuuta.  
  
"Sanada intervened this morning. I was beginning to think no one would."  
  
Hirakoba rolled his eyes. "Him. He's _such_ a tight ass."  
  
Laughing, Kite began to sample a bit of the lunch Hirakoba had given him; it was surprisingly good. "He broke up the party, that's for sure."  
  
"Che. He's always around to break up a party. I swear, he'd fuck up a wet dream."  
  
"Whatever his methods, he got all those brats to head to class – _including_ Fuji-kun."  
  
"Did he have Yukimura with him? He usually doesn't sweep the halls until after he's delivered his little headcase to class."  
  
Kite nodded. "He had Mizuki-kun and Ohtori-kun walk him to class. They seem to be good friends, Yukimura and Sanada."  
  
"Friends," Hirakoba scoffed. "Sanada's so queer for Yukimura that he won't even let him go to the bathroom alone."  
  
Silent for a moment, Hirakoba seemed to ponder his own words before continuing. "I mean, you know Yukimura's a little touched in the head."  
  
Kite feigned ignorance. "Oh?"  
  
"Yeah," Hirakoba said. "He's not a total retard or anything, but something's kinda wrong with him. It doesn't matter anyway, nobody would dare touch him."  
  
"Because of Sanada?"  
  
Hirakoba laughed. "Because his big brother is Yakuza."  
  
After a moment, Hirakoba put his lunch away and glanced shyly at Kite. It was the first real glimpse Kite felt he'd seen of the boy so far.  
  
"Sensei? You asked if I had a girlfriend, but can I ask you the same thing?"  
  
He blushed when he asked and Kite found himself smiling in spite of himself. He remembered what it was like to be Hirakoba's age, though he'd never been this sweet, this endearing.  
  
"Yes," he said, a little regretful. "I live with someone."  
  
The slump of Hirakoba's shoulders and his subsequent silence was indication enough that he hadn't been asking out of casual curiosity. As he sat opposite him, watching dust motes dance around the boy's blond head, Kite wished – if only for a moment – that he'd been able to give him the answer he'd wanted to hear.  
  
Instead, he leaned forward, ruffling Hirakoba's hair as he rose from his chair.  
  
"Come on, Hirakoba-kun. Lunch will be over soon."

 

***

  
That afternoon, Kite's car was no longer parked where he'd left it. Instead, Echizen Ryoga occupied his parking space, looking just as cool and collected as always. He was, however, still wearing that awful tank top.  
  
"You've had four hours," was all he said.  
  
Ryoga shrugged. "Yeah, I know. But things got a little crazy this afternoon and I didn't get a chance to fix your car. You didn't tell me somebody keyed it up, too."  
  
"That wasn't there when I talked to you yesterday," Kite said, sounding a little defensive.  
  
"Hm," Ryoga said, scooting up and patting the back of his bike. "Guess you made quite an impression yesterday, in that case."  
  
"What? You think one of the students did it? Why would they do that? Yesterday was my first day!"  
  
"Precisely. Now get your ass up here and let's roll. I've got things to do."  
  
It was fortunate, Kite thought as he strapped his briefcase down and mounted behind Ryoga, that he never expected straight answers from his co-worker. It certainly cut down on the amount of stress he'd be forced to deal with otherwise.  
  
"I should have it ready by tomorrow afternoon, don't worry," Ryoga went on. "I had to tail that Mizuki guy most of this afternoon – I swear that idiot has a death wish."  
  
"We told him to lay low," Kite said, resting his hands on Ryoga's hips only because he had no other choice.  
  
"Yeah, well, apparently he's not too sure what that means. Stupid fuck's going to wind up dead before the trial, you just wait and see."  
  
Groaning, Kite bowed his head, banging his forehead against Ryoga's shoulder three or four times. "Dammit. We need this conviction. We need his testimony."  
  
Revving the engine, Ryoga backed out of the parking space and lowered his sunglasses. "Like I don't know that? Just tell me that his kid is smarter than he is."  
  
"Mizuki-kun is cautious. He seems intelligent to me."  
  
"Good," Ryoga said. "Maybe he can help his old man keep from getting his ass blown off until after we've had a shot at Kuwahara."  
  
Ryoga pulled out of the parking lot, weaving in and out of traffic on the road with little regard to the other drivers. Kite merely hung on, lost in thought and reminding himself that – in a few days – it would all be over.  
  
The way Ryoga drove, it didn't take long to make it back to Kite's and, as they pulled up to the front of the house, Kite stared in disbelief. With both feet on the ground now, the engine idling beneath them, Ryoga made no move to get off the bike and wasn't surprised when Kite didn't, either.  
  
There, on the front steps were four of the five piece Louis Vuitton luggage set that Kite had practically bankrupted himself to obtain for Kenya's birthday last year. Even now, he failed to see the appeal of a bag that looked like a big checkerboard, but Kenya had been ruthless in her desire to obtain them. She loved those bags – referring to them to as 'The Grimaud' whenever opportunity arose - so it was highly unlikely that she was simply angry with him and was throwing the bags out to spite him. She was far too tight-fisted with money for that. More likely was that she was leaving Kite and wanted him to know it before he'd even walked through the door.  
  
"Goddammit," he swore, climbing off the bike and trying to unfasten his briefcase while still keeping an eye on the front door.  
  
"Maybe she's going to visit her mother?" Ryoga supplied helpfully.  
  
"Her mother lives two hours away. I don't think she'd be packing everything she owned."  
  
"You know how women are. They can't pack light – none of them."  
  
With a heavy sigh, Kite swung his briefcase against one leg and slipped his hand into his pocket. Whatever awaited him inside that house was going to be ugly. "Thanks for the ride," he said sullenly.  
  
"Yep," Ryoga said, revving his engine and easing away from the curb. "Talk to you tomorrow."  
  
Having to step over Kenya's suitcases didn't improve Kite's mood – he almost contemplated getting a few footprints on them just to be an ass – and when he pushed open the front door, he nearly tripped over the cat’s crate. Frowning, he kicked the side of the crate and enjoyed an intoxicating rush of satisfaction when the cat yowled from within.  
  
Seated primly on the hassock before the sofa, Kenya barely spared him a glance as she pulled on a pair of thin, leather gloves. She was dressed in a conservative travel suit – pink – and the sight of her long legs crossed before him failed to give his libido the jump-start that they typically did. Kite assumed that the situation they currently found themselves in had something to do with that.  
  
"You know it's hot outside," he said, nodding to the gloves she smoothed along the palms of her hands.  
  
"You'd know," she returned lightly. "With your arms wrapped tight around Echizen Ryoga while he _rides_ you all over town."  
  
Dropping his briefcase, Kite very nearly – once again – jerked a hand through his hair. It never would have worked and he would have only wound up looking comical. He didn't want to give Kenya another reason to look down on him. "Oh, I don't _believe_ this," he began, frustrated.  
  
"You had all this shit packed way before Ryoga brought me home. Don't even try it."  
  
Laying her hands atop her knees, Kenya cocked her head at Kite and smiled tightly. "I wouldn't dream of it. That's not the reason I'm leaving."  
  
"Then what's the reason?" he asked. "I deserve to know that much, at least."  
  
She stood then, smoothing down her skirt and bending to pick up her purse and a smaller travel bag. "My cab will be here in two and a half minutes. We don't have enough time to allow me to list all the reasons why this can never work."  
  
"I'd settle for one or two," Kite muttered, tugging on his tie and loosening his buttons.  
  
She was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and finally, she nodded. "All right, then."  
  
Staring back, Kite could only realize that the annoyance and insult that her leaving brought far outweighed the heartbreak he knew he should have felt. She was beautiful, intelligent and great in the sack. And that's where it ended. Such a realization hurt; made him sad for what could have been.  
  
"You're an unbearable bore," she began, ticking off her every reason with the tips of her fingers. "Your friends are like farm animals. You're selfish, your hair is stupid, your clothes are ugly and you have a tiny dick."  
  
"Is that right? You used to like my tiny dick, if I recall correctly," he said. He’d just _had_ to ask for reasons, hadn’t he?  
  
"Yes, well," she said, patting the back of her hair. "I faked it. A lot."  
  
He sat down heavily on the sofa, stretched both arms out on the edge behind him and watched her, the woman he'd have sworn that he loved. Now she was just a beautiful stranger and the distance between them was something he knew he didn't have the time or the inclination to breach.  
  
"My cab's here," she said. "See you around, Eishirou."  
  
She opened the door and he watched every single move she made. "Send my regards to Zaizen."  
  
In the doorway she paused and Kite could see the cab driver on the sidewalk. He could carry her bags; Kite sure as hell wasn't going to.  
  
"You'll see him tomorrow," she said tonelessly. "Send them yourself."  
  
She closed the door behind her, spoke politely to the driver and Kite could hear her high heels on the sidewalk. When he got up, it certainly wasn't to look out the window to make sure she hadn't changed her mind.  
  
He just needed a drink.


	2. Learning to Fall for the Teacher's Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kite goes undercover to protect the Christian son of the prosecution’s star witness. He is, however, completely ill-prepared for the boy who works so hard to secure his attention and – ultimately – his affection.

Three hours and a bottle of cheap rum later, the heavy fog clouding his brain began to dissipate when he became aware of the frantic pounding at his front door. 

"Sensei! Please open the door!"

Shaking himself awake, Kite shifted to one side on the sofa and pressed one hand to his forehead, ignoring the empty bottle that rolled off the sofa and across the floor. He recognized the voice, but only just, and grimaced when he stood. 

"Coming, coming. Hold on."

His head was throbbing, but he knew it was due more to the position in which he'd fallen asleep than to the alcohol that had so enticed him to nap in the first place. 

"Sensei!"

Hirakoba.

He opened the door, shocked when the boy pushed his way inside, wrapped his arms around Kite's waist and dragged him away from the window. 

"What?" Kite began, seeing headlights on the wall as a car circled in front of the house. "Hirakoba-kun?"

"Some guys were following me," Hirakoba said, breathless. "I was driving around outside your house and this black car pulled up behind me – going real slow – and when I tried to speed up, they'd keep up with me. I dumped my scooter at the curb and one of them opened the door and tried to grab me."

Touching the boy's shoulder lightly, Kite backed him up a bit and turned to look outside. Hirakoba grabbed at his shirt. "No! They had guns!"

Kite squeezed his wrist to reassure him and turned off the light inside so that he could see out into the darkness. "There's no one there now, Hirakoba-kun. They must have given up."

"Sensei," Hirakoba murmured, moving closer and seeking closeness. "One of them said your name. They must have been here for you."

Kite laughed humorlessly and drew Hirakoba away from the window and down the hallway where, if anyone were lurking outside, no one could see in. "What were you doing here, anyway? It's bad enough that you ride around on that scooter when I know you're not old enough, but to be out after dark on a school night? What gives?"

Hirakoba frowned and followed Kite into a guest room. "I'm not a child."

Kite yawned, sat down on the futon. "Yeah, you are. And you didn't answer my question."

"You're not really a teacher, are you?" Hirakoba asked, sitting down cross-legged on the tatami just at Kite's feet. 

"You know, you should be a lawyer, kid," Kite said, wishing he had a cigarette and that he hadn't emptied that whole bottle of rum. "You don't know how to give a straight answer."

"Maybe you're just not asking questions that interest me," the boy challenged, smiling now despite the scare he'd just had.

Kite tipped his head. "Is that right?"

"I saw your woman leave," Hirakoba said quietly. "Looked pretty permanent to me."

"How long have you been tailing me?"

"Since you left school," Hirakoba admitted. "I saw you leave with that guy, you know. I would have given you a ride. And when we got here, I saw your lady packed up and ready to go."

Kite looked away, lamenting his loss of dignity, of focus, of normalcy. Hirakoba continued.

"She was pretty. You must be sad."

Kite shrugged. "It's not that simple."

"I mean," Hirakoba began. "I can't pretend I'm not glad. I was afraid you'd never be free to look at me."

Kite looked at him sharply, suddenly, and though Hirakoba blushed under such intense scrutiny, he didn't look away. 

"I'm not looking at you now," Kite told him. "You're my student."

"No, I'm not," Hirakoba said. "I've already said I don't think you're a teacher at all."

"I don't really care what you think, ki-"

"You're different here than you are at school," Hirakoba interrupted, scooting forward and looking up at Kite earnestly. "Can I see your dragon?"

Laughing, Kite leaned back on his hands and gazed down at Hirakoba. The kid watched too many gangster movies, he was sure of it. "What are you talking about?"

"So I guess you're not going to tell me," Hirakoba said, somehow managing to appear forlorn and petulant at once. "All your secrets. What you really are. What you're all about."

"No," Kite said, wanting to touch the boy's shiny hair, but not daring to initiate something that he had no intention of following through on. "I'm not."

"Then," the boy paused, licking his lips nervously and seeming to bolster his courage as he scooted close enough to brush Kite's leg with his arm. "Will you do it with me? Since you're single now?"

Blinking in surprise, Kite tried not to notice the blush on Hirakoba's cheeks and the way his voice wavered when he spoke. "I know you probably still love her, but I'm not dumb, okay? I know the score, I do. I just...I won't expect anything from you."

He trailed off, picking at the mat he sat on and fidgeting a little. Kite watched him, not unaffected by his earnest desire and teenaged impatience. Hirakoba was endearing, likable, sweet. He was dangerous.

"Hirakoba-kun," he began, wishing he could treat the situation casually so as not to embarrass the boy, but unable to mask the regret in his voice. "You don't even know me. I'm fifteen years older than you. I'm not what you want."

"You are," Hirakoba insisted quietly. "I don't want a girl. And I don't want a boy. I want..." he faltered, swallowing audibly. "I want a man."

"You'll regret it," Kite told him firmly. "We can't have a relationship – it would never work."

"It's my regret to have," Hirakoba returned quickly. 

Kite sighed; the kid wasn't going to take no for an answer. Not easily, in any event. "Not just yours, Hirakoba-kun."

"Oh," he managed, bowing his head. "You don't want me. That way."

Kite didn't tell him that wanting him wasn't quite the issue – he didn't want to open himself up for the passionate onslaught that might follow; the boy was plenty stubborn. "That has nothing to do with why I won't."

Hirakoba looked up then. His eyes were big and deep and blue and when he licked his lips, he had Kite's attention right where he wanted it, whether he knew it or not. "Please, Sensei. Just once."

Closing his eyes, Kite pinched the bridge of his nose; his head was still pounding. "I should take you home," he murmured, attempting to will the headache away. 

"You can't," Hirakoba said. "I told my parents I was staying over at a friend's house. If I come home now, they'll know I was lying."

Kite merely stared. He'd been suckered. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. "You'll think of something," he said.

"No, Sensei, please! I promise I won't be a bother. Can't I stay here tonight?"

This time, Kite massaged his temples. First he'd tried to foist his virginity off on Kite and now he was trying to wrangle an invitation to stay the night. His life had become a ridiculous, dime-store crime novel. Or rather – the way things were going – a ridiculous, dime-store gay crime novel.

"Why don't you go take a shower," Kite suggested, standing slowly and holding out a hand for Hirakoba. "Relax a little and then we'll talk."

The boy beamed at him, taking his hand and hopping to his feet. "I am kinda sweaty. Thanks, Sensei!"

Releasing his hand, Kite waved him toward the door. "Yeah, yeah. My bathroom is at the end of the hall, just off my bedroom."

Halfway down the hall, Kite called out to him and he turned, still grinning. 

"Don't mess with my stuff," Kite warned. 

"I won't, sheesh," Hirakoba said, and took off toward Kite's bedroom, looking just as pleased as punch.

Trudging back into the kitchen, Kite sighed again and began to rummage through the cabinets for aspirin of any sort. He could hear water running in the bathroom and, faintly, Hirakoba singing some awful pop song. 

The phone rang and Kite cringed, dreading whatever might be waiting for him on the other end of the line. Ryoga with more car disasters, Atobe with one of his famous 'slight change of plans', Sakaki from the D.A.'s office, warning Kite about a possible attempt on his life/recently deceased witnesses/relief from duty for breaking more laws than the criminals he was supposed to be bringing to justice. Still and all, he picked up. It wasn't as if he actually had a choice. 

"Kite."

"Where in the fuck is that cathouse you were telling me about? I've been wandering around downtown for an hour and a half. I feel like a dick."

"That's because you are a dick," Kite responded pleasantly. "Where are you now?"

"I'm across the street from that leather bar and next door to some fish market. It stinks over here."

"You're close. It's about three doors down. 45885 is the street number. Go upstairs."

"It's hot as balls out here, man. I shoulda just went home and jerked off in front of the fan."

"Why didn't you?" Kite asked. 

"Eh, I was already out here. Busted some asshole whose been hanging around near the station. Skirt-lifter."

Kite made a face. "They're really giving you the shit jobs, aren't they?"

"Yeah, well. I'm still on probation after that last incident, you know."

"Oh, right," Kite said, remembering. "How is that guy anyway?"

"Doc says he'll walk again. He's only got the one ball now, though."

"Maybe he'll think about that the next time he pulls a gun on somebody," Kite said. 

"Either that, or he really hates cops now and we've all got something to look out for. Anyway, I didn't call to yak with you, Kite. I need to find myself a piece of ass before I get too tired to bother."

Hesitating for only a moment, Kite listened carefully for Hirakoba. Satisfied that he was still splashing happily in Kite's bathtub, Kite held the phone tighter to his ear and lowered his voice. "Hey, Akutsu. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, hurry up," Akutsu said, taking a drag off his cigarette and exhaling into the phone. 

"You, uh," he hesitated, unsure of the reaction he might receive. "You ever made it with a guy before?"

"Guy?" Akutsu asked, sounding disgusted.

"Boy," Kite amended. 

"Oh," Akutsu said, winding down a little. "Sure. Once or twice. Why d'you ask?"

"It's a long story. What's it like? Could you, you know, get it up okay?"

"Depends," Akutsu said sagely. "If they're over 19, I usually don't bother. But if they're young enough and cute enough, it's like doing it with a girl. Except...not. You get it?"

Kite didn't get it. "I guess so."

"But hey, man," Akutsu began. "What happened to that little firecracker you were living with?"

"She ran off with the school nurse," Kite said dryly. 

Akutsu whistled his appreciation for such a mental image. "No shit? Damn, that's hot."

When Kite didn't respond, Akutsu continued. "Oh, I mean, dude, that sucks. I don't suppose she ever let you watch or anything like that?"

"The school nurse is a guy," Kite told him. 

"Oh," Akutsu scoffed. "Stupid bitch. That's a shame, too. She had one hell of an ass on her."

"Okay, so back to me now," Kite said.

"Okay, yeah. Where were we? Oh, right, boyass."

Kite cringed. "I wish you wouldn't say that."

"Listen," Akutsu began. "How many guys has he done it with? Do you know?"

"None."

"Good. Here's what you do: strip that little bitch bare, lay him on the bed and suck on his nipples for a few minutes, right? Bite your way down his belly and spread his legs. Nibble on the insides of his thighs and suck on his balls – that'll get him to thrashing his hips a little bit – and then you just hold him down and suck his dick, but not for long. Those young ones'll shoot in your mouth and not even know it's coming. When he's begging and squirming and spreading his legs, you flip him over and rub his ass. He'll start arching his back and that's when you lube him up – make sure you get him nice and wet. Finger him a few minutes, they're usually pretty tight. Let him rub his dick on the bed and he'll probably come before you can get in him. It's easy going in if you can make him come first."

Akutsu paused a moment. "Let's see, what am I forgetting?"

Kite stood, shell-shocked, somehow wanting Akutsu to both continue and just shut the sweet hell up. His face was hot. He was hot all over, come to that.

"Oh, yeah. Make sure you bag it, dude. You don't know where that bitch's been."

"Uh, right," Kite responded weakly. "Th-thanks for that."

"Hey, no problem. Anyway, I think I found the place. I can smell the hooker perfume on the stairs – this must be it. You have fun with your little honey; don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He hung up and Kite continued to stand where he was – staring at the phone and feeling that Akutsu had certainly given him ample latitude for the night ahead. He wasn't at all sure he could maintain an erection with his fingers in some boy's ass, no matter how pretty that boy happened to be. But then, Kite Eishirou never backed down from a challenge and, honestly, didn't he deserve a little action after all the grief he'd been given lately? He was frustrated enough to just go for it at this point. 

"Sensei," Hirakoba called softly, standing just in the hallway and wrapped tight in Kite's purple silk robe. Short on Kite, it hit Hirakoba just below the knees and it gapped at his chest. His waist was even smaller than it typically seemed and, with his hair still wet from the bath, his blue eyes looked that much wider, that much more innocent. 

"I'm sorry about your bathrobe," he went on. "But there was nothing else in the bathroom and I didn't want to put my dirty clothes back on."

"It's fine," Kite said, distracted. Hirakoba was smooth, tanned and practically naked. It was hard to feel guilty for the thoughts he currently entertained when every line of Hirakoba's body seemed to be saying 'Do it. You know you want to. Just say the word and I'm all yours, Sensei.'

"What is it?" Hirakoba asked, self-conscious now as he tightened the robe around his chest. "Are you angry?"

Kite was about the furthest from angry that he'd ever been. He was hot again; he thought he might be sweating. "I...you're just..."

Licking his lips, Hirakoba took a step forward – cautious and deliberate. "What?"

"You still want it?" Kite asked, flush with trepidation, embarrassment, desire. The look on Hirakoba's face spoke plainly of his immediate comprehension. 

"Yes," he whispered. 

"Come here," he murmured, laying the phone aside and reaching for Hirakoba. The boy went into his arms easily, resting his hands at Kite's hips and looking up at him despite his blush. 

One little tug on the silk belt had the bathrobe falling open and Hirakoba closed his eyes when Kite eased the fabric away with one hand at the boy's hip. He was hard and his legs trembled when Kite slid one hand lower to stroke the back of his thigh. He gasped, fingers bunching Kite's pants, and Kite took his hand away quickly. 

"No," Hirakoba protested, moving closer. "Keep going."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go down, Kite realized. They were standing in the kitchen and it was going to be rather difficult to follow Akutsu's instruction as they were. 

"You want to, uh, move this to the bedroom?"

Nodding, Hirakoba pressed his face to Kite's chest and shivered. Touching him finally, Kite rubbed his back through the thin silk of the robe and the boy exhaled audibly. 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, and Hirakoba nodded again. 

"You won't be sorry, I promise," he said, hanging on tightly to Kite and not realizing that it was Kite who should be making reassurances and not the other way around.

"You don't have to say things like that," Kite told him, guiding him toward the bedroom. "Nothing's set in stone. I'll stop if you tell me to stop."

Hirakoba was tense, Kite could feel it when he rested one hand at the boy's hip and leaned to turn on the light.

"No," Hirakoba interjected. "Leave it off. The moon is bright, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Kite agreed, closing the bedroom door, though he couldn't have said why he did. He lived alone, now. "It's bright."

Pulling Hirakoba close again, he ducked his head to nuzzle at the boy's neck. He was warm, soft. He smelled good. Gathering the edge of the robe in his hand, Kite inched the fabric up along the back of Hirakoba's leg, fingertips light against his skin. He nibbled the boy's earlobe, easily lost in the feel and the warmth and the scent of him. Hirakoba gripped his biceps, rising to his tiptoes and inhaling sharply when Kite lifted the robe to bare one buttock. He touched him carefully, squeezing him, and Hirakoba stiffened. 

"Sensei," he breathed, pressed tightly against Kite and Kite marveled at the response his actions provoked. He hadn't even gotten the kid into bed yet.

With both hands under the robe now, cupping and kneading Hirakoba's bottom, Kite brought him close to nudge between his legs with one knee and the boy trembled. 

"Sensei," he hissed, clenching under Kite's hands, tensing, sucking in a breath, and Kite kissed his neck, murmuring reassuringly. 

Then the boy's voice caught and he grew very still against Kite, digging his fingers into Kite's arms. And then he slumped, limp and breathless, and Kite caught him when he swayed against him. He bent, swung Hirakoba up into his arms and held him for a moment before laying him carefully on the bed. 

"Hirakoba-kun?" he asked softly, kneeling beside the bed when Rin curled up on one side – legs drawn up. His eyes were barely open, his lips slack. And he'd come all over the front of Kite's trousers. 

"You can," he slurred, reaching out to touch the crispy curl of Kite's hair. "call me Rin-chan."

Hirakoba closed his eyes, faint smile on his pretty lips, and his hand lay open near his cheek. He was asleep. And Kite's dick felt like stone inside his underwear. 

Kite realized, idly stroking the boy’s hair, that he hadn’t even had the chance to kiss him.

 

***

 

It was cool out. The sun was just rising and Rin's hair was a tangled mess and his belly was empty and clamoring for breakfast, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd awakened with such a clear head. With the muted light of pre-dawn filtering through the window and over his pillow, Rin had come awake gradually that morning – warm and comfortable and very, very well-rested – and opened his eyes to see Kite Eishirou sprawled out beside him. On his stomach, with one hand beneath his pillow and the other curled just next to his face, he looked different without his glasses. Younger, unaware, vulnerable perhaps.

Or maybe the previous night was coloring Rin's judgment and the swell of emotion he experienced due to Kite's proximity was only wishful thinking. 

Quiet when he slipped out of bed, tugged on his clothing from the night before, Rin had glanced back at the bed and smiled to himself. It was a first step, certainly, but having taken that initial step could only mean that the next few to follow would come easier. Kite had kissed his neck and touched him, had shared his bed; surely such progress was indicative of his feelings for Rin.

Pulling his hair back into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, Rin rotated his shoulders and bent to stretch the muscles in his legs. A quick jog and he'd have time to shower and perhaps manage a quick breakfast before he and Kite would need to be off to school. Last night's unanswered questions could wait; in Rin's mind, he and Kite were already together.

Light on his feet along the sidewalk and into the alley, Rin picked up his pace and wrinkled his nose. He could smell the coming rain in the air, the exhaust, the faint chill that had yet to fade. He wondered if he'd appeared as inexperienced and childish to Kite as he suspected that he might have and hoped that he was just remembering things wrong. His grand plan – the seduction of Kite Eishirou – had not been quite the production Rin had intended. Cringing, Rin remembered bringing the curtain down early and regretted that he'd let the night pass without attempting to sway Kite with his own romantic overtures. He hadn't even touched Kite; they hadn't even kissed. Rin couldn't help wondering if Kite would give him another chance. A second chance to prove that he could be as good as any woman – better, in fact. Better than the stupid woman who'd left him all alone. 

He smiled, thinking of all that would be theirs now. The house, the future, living and loving and learning all the things that he'd always thought he already knew. All with a man worth the time and the effort. Even if it turned out that he was Yakuza. Nobody was perfect.

"Hey, kid," 

The voice that startled Rin out of his early morning daydream was low and soft and he never even got the chance to turn around and see if its owner was the same. He didn't have time to scream, didn't have time to feel fear.

The man behind him with the low, soft voice hooked an arm around his neck, pressed a cloth to his nose and mouth and turned Rin's world dark again. He didn't even get to see the sun rise.

 

***

 

It had been a strange morning. Having awakened to find himself alone when he'd anticipated needing to find the right thing to say to the boy he'd spent the night with, Kite really couldn't have said if finding Hirakoba gone and making words entirely unnecessary made him happy or not. He felt unsettled and had no real idea why.

He didn't see the boy in the hallways that morning, didn't have to find a casual dismissal to send him on his way, didn't have to wish he'd stop staring at him and making him feel things he wasn't supposed to feel. When he didn't turn up in Kite's class that morning and had yet to make an appearance by lunchtime, Kite began to worry. At the very least, Hirakoba would have left a note. Wouldn't he? Kite realized that he really couldn't say, one way or another; it wasn't as though he knew the boy well. He supposed it couldn't be helped that he would assume an exaggerated sense of familiarity given that he'd had his hands all over Hirakoba’s ass the night before. It disgusted him - what a romantic he was turning out to be. 

With no woman to pack his lunch and no fawning teenaged admirer to bring him one, either, Kite was forced to buy his lunch in the cafeteria. The other teachers chose not to, but Kite liked watching the students, free from the rules and stifled atmosphere of their classrooms. Here, he could see who spent time with whom, which students garnered the most respect, which ones were the biggest target for ridicule or – worse – blatant disregard.

He cut in line, smiling blandly at a short, mean-looking redhead who scowled at him for his audacity. Kite merely smiled more and selected a gouya burger and tofu. The redhead thumbed his nose at Kite, but he was too cute to incite much anger. Kite patted his head and scooped up his tray, turning to find a suitable vantage point from which to have his lunch.

Spotting Sanada-kun first, Kite sat at the table opposite him to observe him. Predictably, Yukimura-kun was by his side and neither paid much attention to their surroundings. Though he still wore the unflattering black cap, Sanada had removed his coat and draped his tie over one shoulder while he helped tie Yukimura's bib. Yukimura was uncooperative, plucking at Sanada's shirt buttons and leaning in to breathe on Sanada's pin only to wipe it clear and shiny again. He repeated those same motions several more times while Sanada cut his ramen into small pieces. Sanada spoke to him periodically, though Kite couldn't hear anything he said, and from time to time, Yukimura would giggle and try to blow raspberries on Sanada's forearms – bared by his rolled up sleeves. 

Yukimura ate with his fingers and Sanada seemed content to leave him to his own devices, though he seemed ever watchful of the people around him. It occurred to Kite that Sanada must know Yukimura's family secrets and the idea that Jackal entrusted such secrets to an unrelated high school boy seemed odd to him. Kite knew that, as much as he disliked involving children in the cases he was assigned, utilizing Yukimura in some way might be unavoidable. 

After he'd made a mess of his lunch tray, Yukimura leaned to one side and lay his head in Sanada's lap. It was the first time Kite had noticed the boy being still. Unperturbed, Sanada merely continued to eat, concentrating on the food before him and periodically stroking Yukimura’s hair affectionately. Once or twice, he glanced down at the boy in his lap and smiled softly; Kite would never have guessed that Sanada was capable of looking quite so sappy. Yet, there he was and Kite found himself unable to look away for a long moment.

Eventually, however, Kite polished off his burger and rose to empty his tray. On the way out of the cafeteria, he glanced around – hoping to catch sight of Hirakoba or Mizuki – though he didn't recognize many of the students at all. Nearest the door sat Fuji Shuusuke, enjoying a colorful array of sushi that he didn't share with the people at his table. Flanked by Tezuka-kun and Yuuta-kun – both of whom appeared miserable and downtrodden – Fuji made small talk with a couple of cheerleaders and smiled pleasantly throughout. When Kite passed his table, Fuji opened his eyes and blew him a little kiss. Kite experienced a sudden chill and wished that the day would be over soon.

 

***  
>

 

The music, the chatter, the clink of glasses and the high-pitched squeal of girlish laughter reached Hirakoba from the main room. Hidden away in an upstairs bedroom, bound to a chair so deep that his feet barely reached the chair legs that his ankles were tied to, Hirakoba couldn't believe that the people who'd snatched him off the street were now downstairs partying like college kids. The guy who'd grabbed him had been rather young and he was kind of an asshole. The chubby, gum-snapping guy in the kitchen had yelled at him and smacked him in the back of the head when he'd pushed Hirakoba through the door, causing him to trip and knock over a stack of cooking pots. 

'Akaya, you big stupidhead! We want that chococop to come after him and this kid needs to be in one piece when he does!'

The guy – Kirihara – had rubbed his head and pulled his eye at the redhead. 'It's just a little fall, Bunta, relax. I already promised I wouldn't cut him up or anything.'

Hirakoba had withdrawn even further into himself at that point and figured that it would be better if he didn't speak at all. Not that he could make small-talk with his captor, who seemed to eat, sleep and breathe with a pair of red earbuds in his ears. Hirakoba couldn't really tell what sort of music Kirihara was listening to, but it sounded like gay pop crap to him. 

Through the window on the far side of the room, he could see that the sun was about to set and he surmised that he'd been trapped inside this room for nearly twelve hours. He hadn't eaten, he hadn't gone to the bathroom – he'd done nothing but sit in a chair and worry about what was going to happen to him. 

Thinking back to what the redhead in the kitchen had said, Hirakoba could only assume that the 'chococop' he referred to must be Kite. It fit, with the hair and all. Sighing, Hirakoba closed his eyes and wondered if Kite would, indeed, come for him after all. Any suspicions that he might have had regarding Kite's true profession were a thing of the past. He wasn't a teacher, he wasn't Yakuza. He was a cop. He felt stupid for falling for Kite's clueless teacher act – everyone knew that no respected school would hire a teacher with an accent like that. After spending so much time reflecting on the previous night's events, Hirakoba realized just how young and dumb he must have appeared to Kite. There would be no future, no house, no love; Hirakoba was nothing but a pawn in a glorified game of cops and robbers and the odds that he would make it out of the bad guys' house in one piece seemed less and less likely.

The sun finally set, sinking low into a horizon that Hirakoba couldn't see, and the room grew darker as the minutes ticked by. An hour passed, maybe two, and Hirakoba must have dozed off since the slow creak of the door opening jerked him hard back into instant awareness. The room was full dark now and the light spilling in from the hallway beyond hurt his eyes. Squinting, he rasped, "Who's there?"

No one answered and, whoever it was, didn't turn the light on before they closed the door again. The stranger bumped into furniture, giggled to himself and then began to hum a tune that wasn't a tune at all. It was manic and creepy and Hirakoba wanted to cry, but he bit down hard on his bottom lip and braced himself for whatever torture he was about to receive. 

"Light-san is hiiiiiding from me," the voice sing-songed, laughing when something thumped and rattled. "Oops. Clumsy Seiichi-chaaan."

Hirakoba tensed. Seiichi-chan?

But then the light flipped on and when Hirakoba's vision sharpened, he gasped. Yukimura Seiichi stood before him, balancing a tray of snacks and two big bottles of soda. 

"Rin-chan!" he exclaimed, setting the tray on the floor and clapping his hands happily. "Do you have the bunny?"

"Uh...what?" Hirakoba wasn't sure how to answer; he didn't want to risk pissing off the boss' brother. 

"Akaya-chan said there was a bunny rabbit upstairs and I've searched every room in the house." He pouted then, looking forlorn. "He must have gotten away."

He turned toward the door and Hirakoba strained against the ropes. "Wait, Seiichi-kun! Don't leave me here!"

Pausing at the door, Yukimura glanced back and smiled at Hirakoba. "But I need to find the bunny." He pointed at the tray on the floor. "I brought him some snacks. Bunta-chan said he was hungry.

"Seiichi-kun. I'm the bunny. I haven't eaten all day."

Eyes widening, Yukimura hurried back to Hirakoba and knelt before him, shifting snacks around on the tray. "Poor bunny-chan. Hungryhungry." After a moment, when he'd arranged rice crackers all over the tray – perfectly aligned in rows of four – he smiled up at Hirakoba. "What are you waiting for?"

"I'm sort of tied to this chair, Seiichi-kun. Can you untie me?"

Appearing to consider, Yukimura eased the strap of a messenger bag over his head and crossed his legs before him. He toyed with the Hello Kitty keychain on the bag and glanced suspiciously up at Hirakoba. "I don't think I'm s'posed to do that. Nii-san will get mad at me."

"Please?" Hirakoba begged. "I won't go anywhere, I promise. I'm really hungry, Seiichi-kun. Can't we share?"

Smiling a little, fidgeting in barely-restrained excitement, Yukimura plucked at the knots tied around Hirakoba's ankles. "On one condition."

"Anything," Hirakoba said and meant it. He had to get free – he had to get out of there.

"Will you look at my picture book with me?"

Nodding, Hirakoba repressed a shudder when Yukimura beamed and leaned in close to untie the ropes. Once, Hirakoba had seen Sanada sneaking a kiss with Yukimura in the gym. He'd kissed him like a man would kiss a woman, he'd touched his hips, his lower back – under his shirt – and when he'd pulled back, Hirakoba couldn’t miss the tent Sanada had pitched in the front of his pants. It had made him feel really weird, like he might throw up, because Yukimura had begun hand-flapping and babbling about the surprise Sanada had promised him shortly after.

That's how he felt now, with Yukimura on his knees before him, working him free of the ropes and humming the theme to some cartoon.

After a moment, Yukimura sat back and Hirakoba slid forward to the edge of the chair. He stretched, rotating his shoulders and cracking his neck as he rose to his feet. "Oh, man, my ass hurts," he mumbled, stretching his back and legs. 

Looking up sharply, Yukimura turned dark, serious eyes on Hirakoba. "A warm bath will help. Would you like one?"

"Oh, but that can wait," he continued. "Let's look at pictures!"

Stretching one last time, Hirakoba sat down beside Yukimura and uncapped a bottle of soda – he was dying of thirst. "What's going on downstairs?"

Yukimura shrugged, opening his bag to withdraw an oversized, bright yellow photo album. "Nii-san told me to go play somewhere and so I did. Some ladies were showing their boobs." He leaned close, whispering. "Naked."

Cramming a handful of crackers into his mouth, Hirakoba said, "You don't like girls' boobies, Seiichi-kun?"

Yukimura made a face. "Yuck, no."

Hirakoba grinned, slurped at his soda. Yukimura was something of a simpleton, but he was cute and innocent and would probably be a child for the rest of his life, poor bastard. 

"What do you like, then?" he asked, finding himself relaxing a bit as Yukimura opened his photo album and reached for a cracker, too. 

"I like Genchi's penis," he said, matter-of-factly. "He lets me touch it and rub my face on it."

When Hirakoba didn't answer, Yukimura smiled brightly. "Genchi-chan doesn't have boobies."

"Renji-chan helps me take pictures, see?" he said, turning the book so that Hirakoba could see. "And I can draw real good."

Staring in horror at the pages, Yukimura flipped slowly through, Hirakoba made pleased noises as Yukimura talked about each one. 

"This is my favorite," Yukimura said, pointing to one page where he'd drawn several flower stems and leaves and, where the flowers should have been, were cutout heads of his family members. He pointed to Kuwahara. "Nii-san is a Venus Flytrap. Have you ever seen a Venus Flytrap?"

Hirakoba shook his head. "N-no. What flower are you, Seiichi-kun?"

Yukimura beamed. "I'm a tulip."

He turned the page again. There was Sanada in the sauna; he was hung like a mule. Hirakoba felt queasy. "Oh. Did you take that one yourself?"

"No," Yukimura said. "Renji-chan took that one, too. He's good with the camera."

He turned the page and Hirakoba clapped a hand over his mouth. Seated at an ornate dining room table was a man in a crisp white suit and red tie. His fingers were curled loosely around a goblet of wine. There was a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. 

"Who's that?"

"I don't know. But it's a good picture, ne?"

He turned the page again and there was Mizuki and Yuuta – cherry blossoms drifting around them, forever suspended in that moment – embracing, kissing. Mizuki’s seersucker, button-up shirt matched the exact shade of the sakura petals in the space around him.

"So it's true," Hirakoba murmured. "They really are involved."

"No one knows I took that picture. I'm saving it for Hajime-chan. So he can remember."

"Remember?" Hirakoba asked. "Why would he forget?"

Yukimura looked sad, tracing the outline of Mizuki and Yuuta with the tips of his fingertips. "His father won't be alive to take care of him. Hajime-chan will be sent away."

He sniffled, leaning in to wipe his nose on Hirakoba's shirt. "Seiichi-chan will miss Hajime-chan."

He took Hirakoba's hand then, and bowed his head. "I want to teach you something, Rin-chan."

Tensing, Hirakoba sincerely hoped he wasn't going to be invited into the sauna – or worse. "Uh, sure, Seiichi-kun. What is it?"

"Listen. And say what I say," Yukimura began, his grip on Hirakoba's hand nearly super-human. "Look, he is coming with the clouds and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of him. So shall it be. Amen." 

Hirakoba winced when the bones in his hand cracked. Christianity, it seemed, made even the most simple-minded of men eloquent. And terrifying. If Mizuki were standing before him, Hirakoba knew he would delight in kicking the living shit out of him. 

Sucking in a breath, Hirakoba began to recite. "Look, he is coming with the clouds and every eye will see him..."

 

***

 

Something was wrong; Kite was certain of it. He hadn't seen or heard from Hirakoba-kun all day and he'd been equally unsuccessful in making contact with Atobe Keigo, who was supposed to be heading up the whole operation. 

Twice he'd called the office in the hopes of catching him, to no avail. The first time, he'd spoken to Oishi Shuuko – sweet-voiced little darling that she was – and the second time, he'd been transferred to Dan Taichi, who sounded reluctant to give Kite too much information. In the end, he'd given up and had sat down at the kitchen table with a bottle of powerade and Mizuki's case file. Mizuki-kun's father was an idiot. A small fish swimming with sharks. Still and all, it was Kite's job to guard his son while Ryoga and Akutsu worked to keep their star witness alive and kicking. Once Kuwahara was in custody, fast-tracking the trial would be a piece of cake. Particularly with Atobe Keigo pushing it forward. Even after all of that, it was still very likely that Mizuki and his son would have to go into hiding for the rest of their lives. It was a small price to pay, Kite thought, to keep from ending up on the wrong side of a gun. 

His mobile rang, startling him, and he answered without hesitation. 

"Hey, cop."

Kite grew very still. "Who is this?"

"I bet you're wondering where your little blonde cupcake is, eh? Been missing him all day, haven't ya?"

Rin. 

"If you hurt him, I'll string you up-"

"Pipe down, Galahad," the man said, sounding smug. "And watch the threats or it's no more Mr. Nice Guy."

Jaw clenched, Kite gripped the phone and remained silent. The man didn't wait for him to answer. 

"So here's the deal, all right? You bring me the little altar boy and I'll give you Hirakoba. Seems like a fair trade to me."

"I won't let you hurt either of them. They're just kids, you murdering bastard."

"Che. You fucking cops, I swear. Sooooo self-righteous. I'm not going to hurt the little fucker; he's insurance."

"And if I don't?"

"Well," the man said, chuckling. "I'll go upstairs and shoot blondie in the back of the head. He's tied up, it's dark; he won't know what hit him."

Kite growled, getting to his feet quickly enough to tip his chair over. The man laughed again – grating and infuriating. "See? He's insurance, too. Acceptable losses, see?"

"Fine. Where are you?"

"Ahaha, good one, Kite Eishirou. You go fetch Atobe Keigo – he gives great...direction...from what I understand."

The line went dead then and Kite pocketed his phone. There was really no point calling Atobe. Kite decided he'd go over there, instead. Plan A was a bust – Kuwahara's minions had seen to that – but Kite always had a Plan B. 

By the time he made it to Atobe's, Kite was certain he'd have made up a good one.

***

 

It was hard to laugh, Atobe had recently discovered, with a fourteen-inch double dong nudging the back of one's throat. It was all part of the fun, Hiyoshi insisted, but then, he wasn't the one choking on a rubber dick shaped oddly like a hot dog.

Sitting up suddenly, abandoning his tickling of the backs of Atobe's knees, Hiyoshi pushed his Zorro mask up and glanced around quickly. 

"Did you hear that, Keigo?"

"Mmm mmmm mmmmm," Atobe said, arching beneath Hiyoshi in an attempt to dislodge him. 

"Oh," Hiyoshi said, reaching up to unfasten the leather strap that bound Atobe to the bedpost. "Sorry, lover."

Pulling the purple dong out of his mouth, Atobe hacked once or twice, scraping his tongue against his teeth. He hated the taste of rubber. 

"I didn't hear anything," he said, unwilling to admit that the entire task force could have burst through the front door and he wouldn't have noticed. Hiyoshi was far and away too sure of the sway he held over Atobe. 

"I think someone's at the door," Hiyoshi said. 

Growing very still, Atobe listened, jumping when he heard the impatient banging at his front door. "Well, at least we know it's not a hitman."

"How do we know that?" Hiyoshi asked, tugging up the shoulder straps of his leather harness. 

"Hitmen don't knock."

"Oh, right," Hiyoshi acknowledged, rolling off of Atobe to lean over the side of the bed, feeling around on the floor. "Here, take this," he said, handing Atobe his service revolver. 

Still holding the dong in one hand, Atobe tucked the gun into the back of his vinyl hot pants and went to answer the door. 

Through the peephole, he saw Kite – hair disheveled and scowling as always – and sighed heavily as he swung open the door. 

"Remind me to never tell you where I'm going the next time I take a vacation."

Lips parted, as though to deliver some scathing retort, Kite seemed to lose his train of thought as he swept Atobe with a wide-eyed glance – from his alligator boots to his go-go boy shorts to the spiked collar at his neck and then his military cap. 

"What?" Atobe asked, defensive. 

"Are you shooting a porno in there?" Kite asked, sounding confused. 

"Keigooooo," Hiyoshi called from the bedroom. "Who is it? Is everything all right?"

"It's fine, muffin," Atobe called back, half-turning to expose the slim expanse of his back, a good portion of his ass and the loaded gun in the back of his shorts. "It's just Kite."

"Jesus Christ, forget it – I don't want to know," Kite said, pushing past Atobe and closing the door behind him, ignoring Atobe's protests. "Go put that rubber dick away and get dressed. Kuwahara's got one of my students."

Glancing down, seeming surprised that he still held the double dong, Atobe tossed it onto the kitchen counter and narrowed his eyes at Kite. "Mizuki."

"No," Kite said, beginning to pace. "Hirakoba. They...they snatched him this morning. Probably right in front of my house."

Arching a brow, Atobe crossed his arms over his chest, hissing when he bumped one of his nipple clamps. "Your house, hm? Do tell."

"I don't have time for this," Kite groused. "Go put on some fucking pants and call the boys. He wants to trade Hirakoba for Mizuki's kid."

Atobe laughed. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Mizuki's only cooperating because of his son. If they take out the boy, there goes our leverage."

"You'll have to trust me," Kite said. "I can make this happen. I just need to buy some time, let them think I'll play along."

At Atobe's stubborn expression, Kite went on. "They won't kill Mizuki-kun on sight. He's their leverage, too."

Finally, Atobe sighed and turned back toward the bedroom. His boots click-clacked on the Italian marble and he swung his hips when he walked. 

Prissy little fag. 

"Oh, hey," Atobe called from the bedroom. "Did you get your car back?"

"No," Kite said. "I haven't heard from Ryoga since yesterday."

"How did you get here, in that case?"

Silent for a moment, Kite shoved his hands into his pockets and scuffed at the tile with the toe of his shoe. He'd gone half a block on foot when he realized that he didn't have time to wait for the bus. There'd been a girl on the corner – long pigtails and empty, wide-eyed stare – parking her scooter at the curb and Kite had acted before he'd given himself a chance to think better of it. He'd flashed his badge and shoved her aside when she just stared blankly at him and when he pulled away from the curb, fishtailing dangerously on the sidewalk until he'd jumped the curb and shot out on the street. As he'd revved the engine and waited for oncoming traffic to thin, he heard her plaintive whine: "Ryoma-kun," she'd said, over and over until Kite would have been willing to throw himself in front of a bus just to make it stop. 

Oh, well. She'd report him and the office would sort things out for him and return her scooter. "I, uh, hitched a ride."

Hiyoshi appeared in the bedroom doorway then, sapphire-blue yukata only barely concealing the leather straps across his chest. He didn't look happy.

"Sorry," Kite offered automatically, hands up in supplication. 

Lips pursed, Hiyoshi leaned in the doorway and popped a clip into the pistol he held. "Just make it snappy, hm?"

Stepping up beside him, Atobe buttoned his shirt over his bulletproof vest and accepted both the extra gun and Hiyoshi's sweet, farewell kiss. 

"Don't go to bed without me," he warned, squeezing Hiyoshi's ass and kissing his ear. 

Hiyoshi smiled tightly, tilting his head toward Atobe's kiss. "Work hard, Kei-chan."

"Let's go," Kite said, opening the front door, Atobe just behind him. "I'll take your Porsche and follow you to Mizuki's."

Atobe wanted to argue, Kite could see it in his eyes. Whatever misgivings he had, however, he kept them to himself. 

"Fine. I'll take the Ferrari. Try to keep up."

 

***

 

The house was dark, when Kite and Atobe pulled up to the lawn. Newspapers littered the ground and the grass hadn't been mowed in quite some time. Not quite the way Kite imagined someone like Mizuki living, but he supposed the man's lifestyle had changed a bit given recent events and the situation he was currently in. There were huge flowering plants lining the sides of the house and – only barely – their perfume masked the smell of overflowing garbage bins in the alley.

Thankful for the lack of working street lights, Kite snuck around to the back of the house and took the short steps two at a time. Rapping quickly on the door, Kite turned sideways, hand just at the butt of his gun as he listened for any sign of movement inside the house. 

Softly, he heard "Sensei?" from just on the other side of the door and Kite breathed a sigh of relief. 

"It's me, Mizuki-kun. Open the door."

Slowly, the boy opened the door and – in the moonlight – his pale face and neck appeared against the dark backdrop of the room beyond. 

"I need your help," Kite said. "Will you come with me?"

"Is my father dead?" was Mizuki's immediate, calm question.

"No," Kite said, wondering just how much Mizuki knew and whether or not that knowledge could work to his advantage. "Kuwahara has Hirakoba."

Mizuki nodded. "He's bait, then. For me."

"You knew I wasn't a teacher," Kite said, unwilling to confirm or deny Mizuki's very accurate assumption. 

Mizuki shrugged. "I suspected. But then I saw my father's guard dog picking up your car and I knew. But it doesn't matter – you're on my side."

Narrowing his eyes, Kite peered at Mizuki. "It was you. You slashed my tires."

Appearing completely unapologetic, Mizuki blinked mildly up at Kite. "I had to know for sure. And you'd have never confided in me."

Silent for a moment, Kite frowned. "I'm not a pedophile, by the way."

Smiling wanly, Mizuki wound a single curl around his finger. "Nfu. That wasn't me, I'm afraid."

The door creaked open a bit more and Fuji Yuuta appeared behind Mizuki, sliding one arm around Mizuki's waist and meeting Kite's eyes. "That was my brother," he said. "Sorry."

Just inside the room, Kite could make out an oversized rendition of the Sistine Madonna hanging on the wall and he stared for a moment, distracted until Yuuta stepped closer to Mizuki, thereby efficiently blocking Kite’s view inside the house.

"So, what's the plan?" Mizuki asked. "If you hand me over to Kuwahara, you can kiss my father's testimony goodbye. Because he'll roll right over to keep me safe."

"It's all for show," Kite promised, stepping aside when Mizuki slipped his feet into shiny loafers near the door. "And it won't take long, either. You can count on that."

Mizuki laughed softly, taking his bag from Yuuta when it was offered, and took Yuuta's hand in his on the steps. "Such a cowboy. If you show up there, guns blazing, you'll never get rid of Hirakoba. He'll think you're some kind of hero."

Yuuta closed and locked the door behind them and Kite let them pass. As he followed them to the car, he couldn't help asking himself if he really wanted to be rid of Hirakoba at all.

***

 

"Akaya!" Kuwahara barked, impatient as though he'd called for Kirihara more than once. Removing his orange top hat only long enough to wipe his head with a silk handkerchief, Kuwahara gestured dismissively to the two strippers who clung to his arms. Their perfume was giving him a headache. Kirihara was making it worse.

Looking in the other direction, head bobbing and foot tapping in time to music that only he could hear, Kirihara hummed under his breath and shimmied his hips. Until Yanagi nudged him with his elbow. 

Tugging one earbud free, Kirihara glanced first at Yanagi and then quickly at Kuwahara. Tinny music resonated from the one earbud and Yanagi bowed his head, covering his eyes with one hand.

'rokkugo! rokkugo! rokkugo! marhaemar!'

"Where. Is. The. Boy," Kuwahara asked. 

‘amanhda manhda manhda manhda!!’

"Oh," Kirihara said, smiling as though he were proud of himself. "He's upstairs. Tied up."

‘yobuge jogi jogeboya?’

"And Seiichi?"

‘yobo ankyung anboyo’

"Why would I tie up Seiichi?" Kirihara asked, scratching his head. 

‘tongsur jib surtong suju man byeong manjuso!’

Still for only a moment, Kuwahara bared his teeth and chucked a vase at Kirihara's head. Quick as a cat, Kirihara ducked and the vase shattered against the wall. 

‘dai shimjom shimida, popopo!’

"I'm asking you where he is, you half-wit! And turn that shit off!”

Sorely tempted to remind Kuwahara that it was his darling brother, in fact, who was the half-wit around here, Kirihara wrinkled his nose and turned off his I-pod. "Um...I haven't seen him for a couple of hours."

"You'd better be joking," Marui spoke up, arms crossed over his belly and looking just as angry as Kuwahara, though Kirihara knew that he couldn't have cared less.

"I just...I mean, he went upstairs and there were all those girls in here and one had these great big tits and I..."

"Shut up," Kuwahara said, sounding weary. "Just shut up and go find him, Kirihara. You're like a child sometimes."

"I am not a child!" Kirihara denied hotly. "I was number one in target shooting at the academy! I can crush anyone!"

Massaging his temples, Kuwahara motioned Kirihara toward the steps. "Do what I tell you, brat. Or I'll send you back to the minor leagues."

Stomping off toward the stairs, Kirihara huffed his agitation and when he was safely out of earshot, Yanagi took out his pistol and polished the silencer idly. "You're too hard on him, Jackal," he admonished gently. 

"Hard on him?" Kuwahara repeated in disbelief. "I should have killed him months ago. He's like a ticking time bomb."

Yanagi's only outward reaction was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth and Marui hurried to soothe the troubled waters before real trouble erupted. 

"Hey guys, I made some Madeleines earlier – do you want some? They're tasty!"

Yanagi didn't respond. Neither did Kuwahara. Marui pouted. "Fine then. Fuck the both of you," he shouted, stomping back toward the kitchen.

"He's going to eat them all himself," Yanagi murmured. 

Kuwahara scoffed. "What else is new?"

Before Yanagi could respond, if indeed, he'd intended to respond, Yukimura came sliding down the bannister, a water pistol in one hand and a Kumagoro plush in the other. "Banzaiiiiii!"

"Seiichi," Kuwahara began patiently. "It's getting quite late. You should have already brushed your teeth, put on your pajamas and gone to bed by now."

Leaning against the staircase, Yukimura tried to look apologetic, but failed – he was still smiling. "Rin-chan and I were looking at pictures and talking."

"Rin-chan?" Kuwahara repeated, brow arching. 

"Yeah," Hirakoba said, trudging down the steps with Kirihara close behind. With the gun digging into his back, he didn't have much of an escape route. "That's me. Hirakoba Rin."

"It's a pleasure," Kuwahara said. "I do hope it doesn't become necessary to blow your head off tonight, Hirakoba-kun."

Yukimura made gunfire noises, but no one paid him any mind. 

"I wonder if your sneaky, badge-toting boyfriend will come to fetch you tonight."

"He's not my boyfriend," Hirakoba said, cheeks reddening. "And I don't know what's going on, but Kite-san will do what he has to do."

"Not your boyfriend, eh?" Kirihara taunted, breath hot at Hirakoba's ear. "Then why'd you spend the night with him last night? Was he helping you with your homework, junior?"

Lips clamped tightly shut, Hirakoba didn't move, didn't answer, and Kirihara and Kuwahara laughed.

The doorbell chimed then, and Yanagi glanced at his watch. "Hm. Very timely indeed."

After a moment, Yagyuu appeared in the open, double-doorway and bowed politely. Just behind him was Mizuki Hajime looking unruffled and resolute. 

"Mizuki-kun to see you, Sir."

Glancing behind Mizuki anxiously, Hirakoba waited to see Kite, though he didn't seem to be forthcoming. 

"Where is your escort?" Kuwahara demanded when Mizuki entered the room to stand straight and unafraid before them. 

"I came alone. It's me you want, right?"

"This is madness," Kuwahara said. "Your father would never-"

“Madness?” Mizuki asked.

“Madness!” Kuwahara repeated.

"My father," Mizuki insisted, "will do what God dictates that he must do. And that is to see that justice is served, Kuwahara-san."

At Kuwahara's expression of shock, Mizuki slipped both hands into the pockets of his white pants. "So go ahead and kill me," he said softly. "It won't change a thing."

"Mizuki," Hirakoba hissed. "Don't be stupid. They'll shoot you without even thinking about it."

"I resent that," Kirihara said, nudging Hirakoba's shoulder with the gun. "I always think about my kill before I squeeze off a few rounds."

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Kirihara stared hard at Kuwahara. "Let me do him, Jackal, come ooon. Let me paint the walls with this little bastards-"

"Rin, move," Mizuki shouted, voice sharp enough to echo off the paneled corridor when he interrupted Kirihara's manic plea for blood. 

In a second, for it all happened far too quickly to think about, Mizuki had his blade out to throw in a perfect arc toward Kirihara. Throwing himself to the ground just in time, Hirakoba stared in shock as Mizuki's blade lodged just over Kirihara's heart. 

Kirihara screamed, gun clattering on the polished floor and Hirakoba immediately rolled for it, snatching it up and training it directly on Kirihara, who had absolutely no interest in it, as preoccupied with the knife and the blood staining the front of his shirt as he was. 

“Nooooooooo! Akaya!!!!” Yanagi screamed, but before Yanagi could target Mizuki or Hirakoba, Akutsu laughed from just behind him and released the safety on his own gun. "Don't do it, bowlhead."

Yanagi stilled, glaring at Akutsu when he held out his hand, even as he attempted to keep his eyes on Kirihara. 

"Give Daddy the nice toy,” Akutsu prompted.

Kuwahara rose, unsteady on glass platforms. From the north entrance of the room, Atobe cocked his head in intense scrutiny. Tiny little goldfish darted back and forth inside the shoes, as though somehow aware of the predicament at hand. Pointing his gun at Kuwahara, he smiled politely. "You should just sit down, Kuwahara. I'd like to take a moment to thank you for kidnapping the boy, here. You certainly have made my job incredibly easy. And those are the ugliest shoes I've ever seen in my life."

From the kitchen, Kite emerged, shoes squeaking on the floor, gun drawn. "I can't believe you have the nerve to say that to anyone," he told Atobe, positioning himself before Mizuki and motioning for Hirakoba to come to him. "Maybe you should ask Kuwahara if he owns a Zorro mask."

"I do," Akutsu spoke up, backhanding Yanagi with the butt of his gun when the man glared at him. "And don't look at me like that, you ugly little bastard. I'll kick your fucking teeth in."

With a quick glance at Kirihara, who was crouched on the floor, rigid with pain and fear, Hirakoba scurried over to Kite, pressing close to his side and closing his eyes when Kite wrapped one arm around him. "I knew you'd come for me," he whispered.

"Shh," Kite said, hugging him close even as his gaze darted continuously around the room. "You're okay now."

"Status?" Atobe asked, watching Mizuki shift closer to Hirakoba to take his hand, to anchor himself, somehow. Atobe knew, however, that he simply didn't want Kite blocking his view of Kuwahara. 

"All targets are subdued. I got the one in the kitchen, Ryoga got the one at the south entrance."

"You think it will be so easy?" Kuwahara asked smoothly. "You're not the first ones to go after me this way, you know. My lawyer is a genius."

"Save the speech for your trial, you lowlife," Atobe said derisively. 

Falling silent, Kuwahara took a step closer to Mizuki. Kite released the safety on his gun. "Don't move," he warned. 

Glancing sideways, Kuwahara took a step back and Mizuki tensed, shoving close to Kite and reaching for the gun in the holster beneath his jacket. 

"Atobe-san, behind you!" he shouted, drawing Kite's gun quickly and firing several shots in Kuwahara's direction as Atobe turned to shoot blindly behind him. 

Kuwahara's platforms shattered – broken glass, spilled water and flopping goldfish littering the floor as he fell backward to the sofa behind him.

"Nii-san!" Yukimura screamed, rushing toward Kuwahara without regard for the men surrounding him. 

"Hold your fire!" Kite said – mostly to Akutsu and even Ryoga, who was lurking in the back hallway. Yukimura fell to his knees, paying no attention to the glass beneath him when he crawled around in an attempt to rescue the remaining fish.

As he hurried into the kitchen, both hands full of squirming goldfish, the sound of sirens echoed in the distance – drawing nearer by the second. 

Atobe smiled, spinning his revolver around one finger, impossibly smug despite the pain in his upper arm from the stray bullet that had nicked him. "Time's up," he told Kuwahara. "You lose."

Handing Kirihara's gun off to Mizuki, Hirakoba wrapped both arms tight around Kite's waist. He wasn't crying, but he was close. And then Kite hugged him back and the front door banged open as several uniformed officers hurried into the room.

It was really over.

 

***

 

Outside, officers led away Kuwahara's men in handcuffs – including a cursing, struggling, bleeding Kirihara. "It's not over! Do you hear me, you megane bastard?! I'll crush you!"

Mizuki slipped away quietly, joining Yuuta in the back of Atobe's car, shutting himself off from a drama that he'd never thought to find himself involved in and seeking peace with the boy he loved. Atobe, seated on the edge of ambulance while someone bandaged his arm, frowned minutely and hoped they weren't doing anything disgusting on his beautiful, Corinthian leather. He winced when the EMT pressed too hard on the bullet wound. 

"That hurt."

"I'm sorry, Atobe-san. You're lucky. It was just a flesh wound."

Atobe snorted. "Well. I hope the other guy looks worse than me."

Ryoga laughed. "The other guy's dead, dumbass."

Glancing around, Atobe said, "Where's Akutsu?"

"He's in the kitchen with that cute little redhead with the fat ass."

"What?" Atobe demanded, wincing again when he moved the wrong way. "What in the hell is he doing? I want to get out of here before the sun comes up."

Shrugging, Ryoga ruffled the back of his hair and glanced around idly. "Eating cookies, I think. Madeleines are his favorite."

Shaking his head, Kite turned to Hirakoba and smiled down at him. "We made it."

Ducking his head, Hirakoba nodded, feeling suddenly shy. "Yeah. We did."

Silence stretched between them and Kite touched the boy's soft, pale hair. "Hey. Why won't you look at me?"

"I," Hirakoba began, faltering. "I don't know."

Tipping his chin up, Kite stared down at him, touching his cheek almost tenderly. "So. You coming home with me or what?"

Eyes wide, Hirakoba could only stare up at him. "Seriously?"

Shrugging lightly, Kite watched Atobe disappear into the ambulance and experienced a moment's dread. Hiyoshi would not be happy about any of this. There would be repercussions at some point in the near future. 

But Kite smiled, unable to really bring himself to care. For once, he had a reason to go home. And something good to do when he got there. 

"Sure I am. I owe you a breakfast. Remember?"

With a slow smile, Hirakoba took Kite's hand, twining their fingers and squeezing just enough to let Kite know that he intended to become a permanent fixture. 

"Yeah," he said, walking just at Kite's side – hand in hand – and leaning his head against Kite's shoulder. "You do."

Watching Ryoga slip into Atobe's Ferrari and Akutsu take the Porsche, Kite didn't mention that Hirakoba owed him something, too. He'd just let the kid figure that one out for himself. They had what was left of the night and the days after, besides. 

Trailing a fingertip over the seat of his scooter – parked just in Kuwahara’s driveway after Kirihara had absconded with it earlier that morning - Hirakoba glanced back at Kuwahara's house. From the front steps, there was a startling flash of light and Hirakoba peered hard into the darkness. As Kite swung one long leg over the scooter’s seat, he smiled over his shoulder at Hirakoba in welcome. Climbing eagerly up behind him, Hirakoba noticed Yukimura standing on the front steps. He held a cup of goldfish in one hand and a camera in the other. Smiling brightly, when he had absolutely nothing to be so happy about, Yukimura lifted the cup of goldfish in farewell.

Hirakoba smiled, wrapping one arm tight around Kite’s waist. And as they motored away from the lawn and toward the street again, he waved.


End file.
